She had been planning this “little” get together with friends for the last month. I finally got her to pare her little list down to eight people including Iris. I always liked to invite Iris to one of our party’s because she always has an opinion on every subject. And what I really like about Iris is that she has no filter on her mouth. She’s not a shy one and you better be ready to cover your ears if you are easily offended. She will be the ideal person to try your new juicy pineapple desert.
The counter space reflects her busy life even as we emerge from this devastating pandemic. The two purses are used for specific purposes which I have never understood. I cringe when she ask me to bring her purse. I invariably choose the wrong one.
The two medical cards with our medications are placed where emergency personnel can find them. I have asked myself a few times if the paramedics will even take the time to look, much less read, them.
There’s the business card from the landscape company she is trying to reach because there are brown patches in the yard. I hate to tell her that the brown spots were probably the result of her using way too much Roundup. But I stay quiet.
The colorful luggage tags are for our upcoming trip to Alaska. No international travel for us this year. She has purchased two new sets of luggage to go along with the six suitcases in the garage. I only need one.
There is a picture of me with my beret sitting in the airport in Dublin. It’s her favorite photo of me. I don’t argue with her.
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.The challenge is to write a story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words of less. My story follows the picture prompt below.
I am disturbed at being alone. That wasn’t always the case. Today, as I look upon the devastation before me, I feel like laughing. There’s not much left of this little piece of paradise. The flooding will start in a few hours. A man rarely feels like laughing alone. When people observe you laughing alone they tend to think you are crazy.
There was advanced warning. Hours before I hear, from the TV under the thatched roof of the Tiki bar, the Governor asking us to leave the area and seek shelter.
The challenge is to write a story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less using the picture prompt below.
He spent his teenage summers working at his father’s farm market: “Leon’s Farm Market.” He worked seven days a week while his buddies enjoyed their summers just hanging around the neighborhood. He was responsible for rolling up the chain link fence that surrounded the market at 9 a.m. He was giving exactly $40 (one ten-dollar bill, three five-dollar bills and fifteen one-dollar bills) to open the old crank style National cash register.
He knew his first customer today. Mrs. Rosenburg was always looking for anything on sale. Looking over his shoulder she said, “How much are those garlics today Danny Boy?”
Children laugh, children play, it’s supposed to be this way. Children love, children hug, children have the sweetest face. Children are supposed to laugh, and race, no evilness should touch this face. Children face the hardest times, when love, and life become unkind. Children are supposed to smile, and race, and not see tragedy all over this place. A child’s life should be a playground, where hurt, and pain are rarely found. This is not alway’s the path, but hope that they will learn to laugh.
It wasn’t the way things were supposed to work out. The promise of having friends and family visit was one of the main selling points in moving into assisted living. The ability to maintain contacts would keep him from going insane.
Now it’s just the staff. The same old staff now wearing masks. What the hell has happened. They say the most terrible legal sentence to impose on someone was solitary confinement.
Far beyond the window, at the edge of some tall willows and behind the gate, he can see his granddaughter. Even from here he can see her crying.