I wrote this as a writing excerise. The story deals with questions we all deal with when we reach that certain point in life. I'm not sure what I am going to do with it. It does seem like the beginning of a novel I want to read. When I know what happen next, I'll work on it. In the meantime, Happy Father's Day and enjoy.




John sat on the back porch steps sipping his morning coffee. A man can think in the early quiet. The occasional squirrel or bird played in the yard for his amusement, but for the most part the man was alone.

Ah the smell of magnolias, fresh cut grass, and exhaust from a car ready to leave for work. John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Suburbia. How the hell did I get here, he wondered.

Better here than in there, he mused. The kitchen was in the middle of its usual morning chaos. Linda and the boys were getting ready for school and work. The sound of a muffled wail made its way through the back door and into John’s peace. Yes, definitely better here than in the line of fire.

At least I can get myself fed and ready, John muttered. He tried to assuage the guilt he felt about leaving his wife with the morning uproar. Not that it took much to get him ready. A shower, shave, a clean pair of jeans, shirt and socks were all he needed for his contractors job. His construction boots lay by the door, a last minute detail.

“Daaaadddeeeeee!”

“Oh well, I guess it’s better to have them yelling for me than at me,” he said to a squirrel who looked up when the noise began. With a sigh, John swallowed the last of his cold coffee and returned to the house.


As he entered the kitchen, John saw the chaos that he had heard from the porch. The 8 year old twins were sitting at the table. Tim, teary-eyed had been the one who called for his dad. Jake, the elder and bossier twin was clearly angry and rolling his eyes at his mom.

“What’s going on in here? I can hear you in the next county!”

The force of angry voices rocked him back on his heels. Yeah, work looks pretty good today.

“Quiet you guys! Linda, what’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? Nothing, except I asked your sons to sit and eat like civilized human beings instead flinging food everywhere. Jake hasn’t finished his homework, Timmy is missing his shoes, I’m not ready and you, as usual, are AWOL. Just a typical morning in the Tanner household.”

Mentally, he sighed. I'm not having this same fight this morning. John looked at his wife. She was beautiful even without her make-up, but Linda had different ideas about what was considered 'ready for work'. He began to bark out orders.

“Linda, finish getting ready. Jake, sit and eat breakfast. You will take the incomplete or F or whatever they give these days. I expect a note from your teacher. Tim, do not let him copy or you will be in trouble. Now let’s find your shoes.”

Linda hurried to the bathroom, relieved to let John have the boys for a few minutes. Let him have the boys for a few minutes, mused Linda. As if the boys were mine alone and John was some kind of visitor or assistant instead of their father. She looked at herself in the mirror and began applying her makeup. She saw tiny creases around her eyes and an occasional gray hair. Fingering the lines, she protested, “But I’m only 38.”

The annoying buzz of her cell phone startled Linda. She sighed and flipped opened the phone. It could only be one person.

“Yes Patty. We’re running a little late. Temper tantrums are terrible thing to waste. Sorry, I know it’s too early for jokes. I’m leaving in 5. Bye.”

Jake and Timmy would pull this stuff on my car pool day.

Twenty minutes later Linda was driving the twins and their friends to school. Husband, kids, car pool. Suburbia. How the hell did I get here, Linda wondered as she drank the last of the cold coffee from her travel mug.


Lani
 

Which Sweet Treat is it?

Warm and creamy
Smooth and dreamy
Sliding down easily

Slightly brown and buttery
Always sweet and sugary
Melting softly and slowly

Sometimes mixed with chocolate
popcorn covering nuts
or wrapped around apples

It’s sometimes in the middle
sometimes elastic sometimes brittle
but always pleasing.




Can you guess which sweet treat it is?

In Honor of June National Candy Month


Lani
 

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -- Mark Twain

They always get the same look of astonishment on their faces when I tell my story.

"You just picked up and moved to Hawaii?!"

"Yes"

"You didn't know anyone?"

"Well, the friends I was moving with and I had a job lined up."

"But still...Why would you do that?"

"Because I was young, single and {if they are Christian and I think they will understand} God sent me."

"Wow I could never do that."

"Why not?"

And again that look of utter disbelief.

I could never understand their attitude. Why not start over? Why not explore? Why not dream? As I have gotten older, I understand the pull of people, place, things, and fear. And yet, if dear hubby said "Let's go." I think I could. As long as he didn't propose a place that was too cold or too dark most of the year. *chuckle* we all have our limits

Lani
 

No comments for the last couple of entries. I sometimes wonder if I am talking to the air. Some of the people I used to read and hang with have left the site. And I was checking stats. Most of my readers are from Unknown websites and cannot comment. So who is reading? If a writer writes and no one reads is she still a writer? Like the proverbial tree in the forest that no one hears falling, how do you answer that question?

I dunno. Maybe this whole blog is just an exercise in narcissism . I certainly spend a lot of time here with not much show for it. I know this sounds whiny, but I don't know what I really need right now. Maybe some clarity. And I don't think I going to find it gazing at my naval or in front of a computer screen.

Lani
 

WHAT DAY IS IT?

Oh my god
The sun is shining
The birds are singing
My head is ringing

I stumble, fumble
For my pants
Wallet’s gone
Groan

Bottles everywhere
I’ve got to get to work
What day is this?
What have I missed?

June 8th
No way
It's suppose to be
June 1,
What have I done?

Write a STORY or POEM about waking up, thinking it was June 1, but discovering that it's really June 8. What happened?

I wrote this last year for the "The Writer's Cramp" ,but I saw the prompt too late for the contest. I hope you enjoy.



Lani