writing prompt

My Fantasy Self

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If I could fly, I would soar to Mexico

If I could soar to Mexico, I would bask on a beach with a margarita.

If I could bask on a beach with a margarita, I would think of nothing.

If I could think of nothing, I would find my breathing deep and relaxed.

If I could breathe deep and relaxed, I would think through all these problems.

If I could think through these problems, I would have a plan.

And if I could have a plan, I would work it and work it.

I would work that plan and create the life I’m striving for. 

But real life keeps intervening and derails my planning.  If I could, I would.

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Calypso

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It is cold as shit in here and I have a Calypso earworm in my head.  Daylight come and I wanna go home.  Like reggae, it’s impossible to be anything but happy when the music is blaring.  And blaring it is.  I want to go home — home where things are organized and orderly and sane.  I am home, but my home is anything but what I need it to be.  Still, I’m oddly cheerful.

Photo by Stéphane Juban on Unsplash

Greek mythology says Calypso was a nymph who kept Odysseus on her island for seven years promising him immortality, but he preferred to go home instead.  I can understand that.  I want to go home too, but technically I am home.  Home is just not very homey right now.

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Magic Potion

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When I was a teenager, I wanted a magic potion, or cream or salve, that would rid me of acne for all time.  As with all good magic potions, it had a dark side in that there would be adverse side effects, but I was willing to live with those.  I wanted to be clear of acne.  I still do.  How can I be 63 and still have acne?

When I was older and began to realize the impact of time passing, I wanted to be able to store memories never to forget them.  “I want to always remember this,” I would say.  I’ve forgotten so many of those moments, but I remember saying it.

Photo by Jan Ranft on Unsplash

When I was older yet, I wanted a potion to keep my son young and innocent and safe.  I still want that potion.  Especially as he traverses the horror that life can be when things go awry.  I want to wave a magic wand and make it better. 

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My Aunt Connie’s Thanksgiving Gift

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  There is no gift giving, No real decorating to speak of unless you are Martha Stewart. Martha Stewart and I share a birthday.  That’s about all we share.

I love Thanksgiving.

Photo by Virginia Simionato on Unsplash

I cooked my first turkey when I was 15 or so.  I wanted to learn.  Easy peasy.  Even bad turkey is good.  I learned how to make gravy from the giblets.  I already knew how to make bread and Grandma Emma’s chocolate bottom pie.  I always have fresh cranberries for my mother.  Roasted asparagus for my brother.  Squash with sausage for my dad when he was still alive as well as cornbread dressing and regular dressing.  In fact, dressing may be my favorite.

Of course, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie.  And Brussel sprouts.  I vow each year to add corn pudding but haven’t yet.  It’s already two full days of cooking and I’m getting old.  There will be wine and everyone’s favorite soft beverage. 

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