Stick Your Nose In

It was a little chilly in the woods, but I didn’t want to complain. Bobby was taking me to a magic place. We came to a big rock. He said, “Stick your nose in that crack. Count to 20. Then your wish will come true.”

I did it. When I finished counting I looked for Bobby. He was gone. “Bobby!” I called. Where was he? I didn’t know the way  . . .

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Goodbye

“You hang up first.”

“No, you.”

“Okay. Goodbye.”

“Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were going to hang up first.”

“Okay. I will. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Yeah. Bye, bye.”

“What are you going to wear tomorrow?”

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Hello

“Hello,” she said. “I know you from somewhere. Where is it?”

“You don’t look familiar,” I answered. “Maybe you’re thinking of someone else.”

“No, I know it’s you. Where do I know you from?”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Come on, tell me!”

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Show Me

He rang the doorbell. He no longer had a key.

His father answered – glaring and unmoving.

“I’m clean,” he said. When there was no answer, he said, “Can I come in, please? I just want to see mom.”

“Show me,” his father said.

He rolled up his sleeves, his pant legs. He took off his shoes and spread his toes apart for inspection. “I’m clean,” he said again.

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The Program

What he needed was a plan, a program. He sat down and made notes on some ideas about how he could organize himself. There was a healthy eating component, and exercise component, and a work component. Spelling it out, hour by hour, day by day, could keep him on track. Maybe.

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Crawfish

Her rattletrap Ford died in Austin, Texas on July 9, 1975. She wandered the bars on 6th Street until she found a fellow musician willing to loan a couch to crash on for a few days. Her new friend took her to a spot down by the river where a waiter dumped a bucket of crawfish on a piece of butcher paper in the middle of their table. She stared at the mess. She was supposed to eat that?

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Spring

I don’t really care that the exact moment when the sun is directly over the equator comes on March 20 most years. Equinox squeecanox. To me spring begins on March 21 and that’s that. No question about it. Why? Spring is my birthday present, mine personally. And that means it comes on March 21.

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Irish

Is everyone Irish? Everyone I know who has used Ancestry.com gets word back that they are partly Irish. Even when you think you know where you came from, know your family history, there’s this Irish bit in there. Nothing wrong with being Irish, of course. Maybe the Irish conquered the world and we didn’t know it.

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The First Thing

I seem to miss a day now and then posting on the blog lately. I don’t mean to. Maybe it’s the political situation, or maybe it’s me recovering from 2 surgeries in quick succession, but this blog isn’t the first thing on my mind some days. If, by some horrible omission, I do miss a day, please feel free to dig into the archives. Writing prompts are everywhere.

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The Road

He sped down the road. I was merely a passenger, stuck in the back seat. I yelled as loud as I could that he was on the wrong road. He cared little what anyone thought because he knew at the end of the road he would find a pot of gold meant just for him. He wasn’t the kind who would share.

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