She remembered the days so bright, skies so blue, that her entire future seemed without zenith. Running along main street, seeing if the five and dime had restocked her favorite candy. She had just gotten her allowance after all. She had watched her baby brothers three nights this week. A nickel per night netted her fifteen cents. She was practically rich.
When the skies were that full of grandeur and awe, it made being chained to the school desk that much more dreadful... The moment the bell would ring, she would sprint, flat out sprint home. Every day her father would tell her that she ran, "Like the devil has your number!"
The farm on which she grew up was primarily corn, with some rhubarb thrown in. The neighboring farm grew spearmint, and when her father and the mint farmer would cross paths on the gravel roads, if she were present, she always hoped to spy the mint farmer's son. He was a year or two older than her, and she was smitten from the first day she saw him.
All that running led her to excel in track and field. In high school, her event was the 4 x 400 relay. Javelin was also in her wheelhouse. She barely missed out on the Olympic team in 1960. She dreamed of Rome all winter long. She also dreamed of Amos, the mint farmer's boy... well... the mint farmer's strapping young man...
As she was strolling... and swimming in memory... she flashed to when she and Amos eventually got married. It wasn't a big to do. Mostly family, few friends who hadn't moved off or gone and got drafted to southeast Asia. Amos had taken over his daddy's farm... and she was in college - so they "avoided the war".
So began their journey together. It wasn't an uneventful life, but not a tumultuous one either. There were highs and lows. They faced them together, like any true couple would. They had two children. They raised two children. They watched as two children went and started their own lives.
She would often think about how there was no preparation for the "routine of life". The seemingly endless repetition of the same thing. While she took comfort in the routine with Amos, it led to her fantasizing about the "What if's". She never acted on anything, not wanting to betray a good man like Amos, who worked hard to provide for his family.
As much as she had not prepared for the routine, she, along with the vast majority of people walking the Earth, she was not prepared for Amos' departure from the world. Blood clot traveled, undetected, and upon finding his heart, stopped it...
She took her time. Grieving. No one could tell her when it was "enough". That was for her, and her alone to decide.
To this day, she will catch herself looking for his boots by the door. He would NEVER clean them off before coming in from the fields... No matter how many times she asked him to. She would grab the broom and dust pan, and as she gathered up the sweeping, he would say something along the lines of, "If I cleaned them off, I would not get to watch your hips sway as you sweep... and when you bend over with that dust pan... well..."
She would "pshaw"... but she would smile... Because she knew he meant it. She knew it was an apology of sorts... And the "flirtations of a farmer"...
She would eventually move to Texas. One of her younger brothers had invented some sort of button on a calculator for Texas Instruments and been able to ride that to a nice salary and early retirement. He decided to take care of his big sister who had taken care of him.
She was older now... walking... RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KROGER PARKING LOT ROW... WHAT THE FUCK?????? COULD YOUR ASS BE SLOWER???? PICK A FUCKING SIDE, MAYBE???? IF THE GREATEST GENERATION WAS SO FUCKING AWESOME, WHY CAN'T SHE PICK A FUCKING SIDE TO WALK ON, SO I COULD GET THE FUCK AROUND HER AND FIND A FUCKING PARKING SPACE???? GO TO THE FUCKING DMV AND GET A FUCKING HANDICAP PLACARD!!!! THEN YOU WOULD BE FUCKING CLOSER AND I WOULD NOT BE SEQUESTERED BEHIND YOUR SLOW WALKING ASS!
________________________________
I was behind her for the 40 second eternity... and made up the entire backstory...
Thankfully... My math sucks or I would have been working out how many miles per hour it would take to bounce, NOT BREAK, her out of my way... Acceleration delta.... Mass... Angle... Do I go for distance or style points on the landing? Stop it stop it stop it...
This is where my Mom is rolling her eyes... But hopefully it was more light hearted than last weeks offering. Also... NOTE: I don't know if I will kick one out next weekend as I am headed to New Orleans for a work conference. I am sure I will have something to say after my visit to the Big Easy though.
Lassiez les bon temps rouler,
d
This blog brought to you by The Power Station, Led Zeppelin, Down, Korn, Faith No More, Black Sabbath, Metallica, and Guns N' Roses.
Who would've imagined you could write sweet engaging fiction? This was good.
ReplyDelete