“He died Baby”, he’d said. “Benjamin found him when he came home from school in his recliner with dark stuff coming out of his mouth…” “Bile” Meghan interjected. “I’m a medical person Sean. That’s renal failure and that’s bile. Drank himself to death finally.” Not surprising but her heart went out to his son, the same age as her daughter at having been the one to find his dad dead. “Yeah. He’s in Oregon now with Mike’s sister. You remember Melinda. They don’t have kids so they’re taking care of him. Figured that would be best. All his stuff has been divided up. His brother took the car.” Sean paused, waiting. A single mom with little to no budget he knew she could’ve used a vehicle. Her son had hers while he was away at college, her daughter still lived with her and she’d gone back to school. It would’ve been helpful to say the least. Not that exercise is a bad thing but they rode bicycles to get somewhere or walked. Meghan sat in silence. She’d broken up with Mike a while ago. Not long enough she guessed, still; good of him to let her know.
“So…” Sean began again. “My heart’s bad from all the drinking me and the Hawk did. You know how Mike was. Pam and I are moving to Arizona. I’ve got to get a heart transplant. “So… so… Well do you want to sleep with me now Baby?” “Sleep with you?” Meghan couldn’t help but wonder is this real or another scheme to get her into bed. “Sean, your heart couldn’t take it. It’d give out. I mean, you’re too big for me to put your body in a dumpster, I don’t have the strength to drag and lift you, it would be too messy to cut you into pieces and put you into trash bags, there’d be blood all over the carpet, I’ll never get it out. Your wife would find out and there’s nothing wrong with her heart. We’ll both still be around and you’ll be dead. No, I don’t want to sleep with you. It just wouldn’t work. Did you get any of his stuff…”
Holidays make memories but I’ll never forget. That turtle I saw on the road so flat, there was nothing squeezed out but just pressed very neatly within its cracked and open shell. Its head split down the middle, no eyes yet perfect in shape, its legs evenly split splayed pointing in a canted north, south, east and west direction and its tail the compass needle on the outer rim as if Picasso’d happened by. Small in size it achieved grandeur by a single act of gods passing by haphazard senseless of surroundings or a treadless tire of incredible weight.
100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#166
“The prompt for you to consider… is:
…holidays make memories but…”
The sea was cold today. I sat upstairs, the ferry’s engine rumbled; as we floated back turning toward open water I felt the icy spray. I admire how gulls light on the surface bobbing with ripples and crests, unmoved and unimpressed. They have the good life but what about the rest?
It causes me to consider.
Creationism at it’s worst; splitting the atom – creation energy in a tube – all impressive. I remember don’t eat of this fruit, you’ll make yourself a god knowing good and evil and be exiled from the garden. Respect, knowing and forms make the garden that I see. Am I alone? Doesn’t anyone agree?
The sea is rough as well as cold; icy spray refreshes from thought. Dolphins swim along side laughing out loud at the cloudy sky; the junction where currents collide impress them not as they dance. I watch. Thoughts become present again.
Brutalized by students. They act out, they cheat, they reason, “we’re legion and she’ll never know, we can get away with crime” or at least it is in their mind but why would one want to loot in the dark? Why is the aspiration to outwit what’s right, because it can’t see? But, it can. They don’t know me. Yet there’s no victory if I identify each one. Did I prevail? No though I asked their help, they directed me. I paid for their responsibility, for the responsibility of the higher ranking than me as far up as the principal and here I sit. My heart aches, is heavy, and I wonder if I should have let them rule the day accepting my fate. But, I’m a teacher. I thought it was my job, to guide, to teach, to show the right way. Let’s make your teacher happy who’s gone these couple days. Let her see how much you can do, your commitment, the contract… I’m exhausted.
I hope life goes on. What an awful way to feel.
Bennett said Nietsche is dead, God remains, but Nietsche’s writings remain too his spirit present, his thoughts survive. Now what do we do? The ferry has docked; I think I’ll walk and get a fish sandwich to go with an espresso to take the chill; then up to a top floor and rooftop café overlooking the city above fog, pollution and mist. What can I say? Even cloudy it can be a good day.
I knew you before you turned
Before you were bitten
Before your stars changed
Before fate played
Depends on your view
I see it before me now
You must go a new way
With your going comes the past
No sense on that to dwell
Will you control the waning moon?
And the transformation it brings
Will you pass me by?
In the form you take
I don’t fear
You’re still beautiful to see
I want you near
Your guttural howl I can hear
Lay your head
By a warm hearth
Make your bed
Your prompt this week is:
…with your going comes the past…