She hugged me goodbye unlike a stranger would.
The nice little lady gave me a long hug, as if she felt or understood it should be, that I was someone more than a stranger.
Slowly looking up, quietly my grandma asked, “And who are you?”
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She hugged me goodbye unlike a stranger would.
The nice little lady gave me a long hug, as if she felt or understood it should be, that I was someone more than a stranger.
Slowly looking up, quietly my grandma asked, “And who are you?”
Moving in for their first kiss he could smell a light floral scented shampoo in her long curly wild black hair, hair that covered the back of his hand. This hand that had been slowly caressing her cheek, the edge of her ear lobe and the line of her jaw as it disappeared from view. Huge brown eyes shrouded by heavy black eyeliner seemed to sparkle and melt as they seductively closed and opened with slight hand movements. He could almost taste the smokey red wine on her breath as she purred the words with slurred S’s “Sex is Stupid.”
Bouncing back into his chair, following a huge gulp of beer, he began laughing. “Yes, yes I suppose it is stupid – and if it wasn’t so fucking awesome, I’d consider giving it up.”
We were off to explore a college.
Jeff and I acquired the correct paperwork, our parents approved it.
Being seniors in high school this accepted right of passage allowed for a few additional days of absence.
All of our individual teachers initialed the forms and counselors filed them with praises.
It was the best ski trip of the season!

“We do not remember days, we remember Moments” –Cesare Pavese
I took another Writing Class at the Hugo House,
“Asking The Right Questions: Self-Inquiry in Memoir” by Suzanne Morrison.
She started by having us write answers to the following questions and then share our answers.
– Write one sentence about the story we are or want to be writing. “My story is a reflection on learning about life, from living with a dog.”
– A memoir we love. “A Big Little Life by Dean Koontz”
– A song we love. “Into the Mystic by Van Morrison”
– A word we love. “Perhaps”
Then after some discussion about how to dig for questions and capturing feelings by writing about “Glimmers” (moments that cause recollection and reflection in sensory detail) we were given our first prompt.
1 – Write about a Glimmer that comes to mind that has occurred in 2014.
“Winter had many days shrouded in thick dense fog. The mysterious cool wet precipitation now causes my hip to sing with searing pain, before I even go outside. Walking in the fog makes me recall numbing pain from football hits, stinging burns from Kung Fu kicks and the flames from a car accident that I could not walk away from.
2 – Take one thing from your writing that links back in time, ten years or more.
“The slow motion of impacting into the side of a pickup came suddenly from the left. Deafening explosions of glass and metal distracted enough to not anticipate running into a little house on the right. Crunching wood replaced the sharp memory from a few seconds earlier, only to be erased by the fire where our windshield used to be. Laying in the mud watching the burning car with my feet still in it seemed like a fitting end, at least it was quiet.”
3 – Write about something from the second Glimmer that embarrasses you.
“Being an only child makes it easy to be your Mother’s favorite. A certain burden comes along with being the chosen one, one that does not allow for making bad choices. Choices that put you in the hospital after a silent ride in an ambulance, after a noisy life-changing event. Parents do not like life changing events in the early morning hours, on Mother’s Day.”
4 – Write about something that has happened to someone else that is tied to your last writing.
“My friend Dan decided not to wear his seatbelt, he never did. Driving too fast in the foggy drizzle to get home a little sooner seemed to him like the thing to do. The other older driver of the pickup shared that perspective and had a similar smelling breath.”
The next few were given as homework.
5 – Reminds you of a subject you’re interested in.
“I’ve always been drawn to cars, in particular muscle cars of the sixties. I also have what my grandfather called “A heavy foot” after my mom asked him how I did when he taught me to drive his pickup, the summer after sixth grade, on the gravel roads near his farm in North Dakota.
6 – Something that you don’t understand.
“Despite several documented examples of getting into trouble and a few painful episode’s resulting from traveling fast, I still have a love affair with the nasty bitch we call Speed. All forms of logic and punishment cannot seem to make me completely part with this mistress of blood rushing excitement and the tastes of adrenaline laced moments.
7 – Riff on one word or phrase that has potency.
“I still have a love affair with the nasty bitch we call Speed. I’m not sure what to do with this one but Love is a drug and perhaps so is Speed.”
Holidays can become hollow through twists of fate.
Thefts of Loss, inevitable and unexpected change these special days on our calendar for some.
While the growing annual marketing madness annoys most people, it is stinging reminders to many of a loss stained day, a holiday that they would rather not endure.
Loneliness gives these once fond days an ache, changing them into days of dread with a hollow feeling.
Perhaps we should all make time on holiday’s to quietly think about those who are hurting.
Eventually most of us will have our own turn.
I like this
A friend with a valuable opinion suggested that I try to write something a little Happier.
I do have Happy moments, lots of them, but apparently they don’t move me to try and write anything (lately anyway). Perhaps I get too busy simply enjoying those moments.
I don’t know much about writing, it’s rules and terminology (I took just enough classes to get by) but there is something called “Voice”.
Perhaps someday a happier voice will find this aging mind. Like hitting my head on a low beam and spilling my coffee or tripping over an uneven sidewalk and throwing everything in my hands, like lots of changes it will probably hurt.
Time may tell.
Hardly any Focus
Breathing seems Difficult
Oddly the mind makes Time seem slower…
while trying to Absorb the Surreal
Feels like my Heart no longer fits in my chest
as if somehow Bigger, but actually probably Smaller, having another piece …Broken off
an all too familiar Mental Time-Out Torture Chamber
The Monster we Simply call Loss is Beating me again
* * *
Cheers to you John Kelly
* * *
I heard that John gave someone the gift of sight. How awesome is that?!