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I stepped outside and got in my car. I looked over to see Al but he wasn’t there. No one in the backseat. It was just me. I turned my radio on the oldies and decided to crank it up … Continue reading
I didn’t really blog much about Al over the weekend. There wasn’t a lot to say. I took him out for lunch because he wanted to spend the gift that he received from a blogger. After lunch we went to Wal-Mart and he bought a new car. A 1960 Ford Galaxy Star liner sheriff car. Al’s is made to look like a police car but the same body as this photo.
When we came home he took a nap. He remained fairly quiet the rest of the weekend. He refused to come out to the table for meals, instead eating in his room.
Tonight the truth finally came out, and I can tell you I was not prepared for what he said. His words were, ” I have thought about it for a few days and I want to donate my body. I want the doctors to find out what made me this way so no one else has to suffer like me”.
We talked for over an hour. I came to the conclusion that he is very serious. He wants me to hurry and get the arrangements made so he can die.
I sat close to him and put my arms around him. He started crying and then I cried. We held each other until he fell asleep and then I sneaked out of his room to the safety of my computer.
Daily Prompt; Can’t Drive 55
Take the third line…
Take the third line of the last song you heard, make it your post title, and write for a maximum of 15 minutes. GO!
Photographers, artists, poets: show us SPEED.
This is one time I have to admit I hear the radio. I hear it playing while I am driving down the road. I went to Wal-Mart and got a few groceries because I knew I wouldn’t get out of the house for a few days.
What did I hear? What was the last song I heard? The truth is I have no idea. I don’t take notice of where my mind is wandering, but obviously it does. I refuse to believe that at my age my memory is becoming unglued.
I bet that my mind goes fifty-five miles per minute instead of hour. I bet I think of all kinds of things. Tossing them around my brain. Letting them in and out like a two-way door.
I thought I did pretty good. I didn’t even have a list to take with me and yet got everything I needed.
So what song did I listen to last? Who knows, and really I don’t care, or I would have written down on paper or stored it in my memory box.
I do like the title of this prompt. Can’t drive 55. Wasn’t that the song by Sammy Hagar? Yes, it is. I found it. Here it is.
Now that brings me some real smiles. Good times, free nights and weekends. Running around with the windows down. Hair flying out the window. Curfew of midnight on weekends. Boyfriends, laughter, beaches, telephone calls. Oh those were the days. Oh yeah.
Here is a picture of the first car I bought for $100.00. It was my baby. It was even black just like the photo. I had an AM radio and with gas at 17 cents a gallon I could fly everywhere I wanted to go.
#FWF Free Write Friday; Image Prompt
He was tired. Poor John had been planning, saving and working so hard at his job. He was a third shift stock man at the local Wal-Mart store.
He didn’t make much but it paid the bills and put a little extra jingle in his pockets.
He had two children who were grown. One off to college and the other working in a local auto shop. His daughter Katie had been smitten with a boy in their neighborhood. Ben had grown up down the street a ways on the side of the street where all the nicer houses set side by side like dominoes.
Kate had grown up in a nice enough home too, but there was no keeping up with the Jones’s homes on this side of the street. Putting food on the table and shoes on feet were the priorities on this side.
Katie and Ben went to the same schools, same colleges. John guessed it would happen sooner than later. He always hoped for later. Katie was the apple of his eye. Bouncing curls growing up. A mouth full of questions. John could always count on his sidekick being with him when ever he puttered in the garage.
Ever since Katie had come to him and announced she was getting married John made it his number one goal to give her the best darn wedding he could afford. Ben’s parents offered many times to take some of the pressure off of John’s shoulders but he always insisted with a NO, and it isn’t a pressure, it is a pleasure.
Katie’s Mom had died a few years back from cancer. Although Katie was practically all grown up John feared she would always need a Mom in her life. He did his best to fill in on both ends.
Katie would have him go along with her to try wedding dresses on. Although John could be working on mower engines he never said no and stood against the racks of dresses with a smile on every time she came out of her dressing room asking, “what do you think Daddy?”
“You look beautiful darling, just like your Mom always did.” Kate would smile and go back in and the question would be repeated dress after dress. Instead of hiring a professional photographer, John had a good friend that had an eye for the camera. His friend didn’t charge the couple. He let this be his gift to them.
Flowers were cut from the back yard. John loved all shades of pink flowers. It didn’t matter what kind they were as long as they were pink, his wife’s favorite colors. John picked up extra shifts and made sure that the food and drinks were going to be the best ever.
He hired a small company to do all the cooking. Nothing special, just a rib filling kind of food. Sliced ham, new potatoes fresh from the garden, a nice bowl of fresh salads, the complete meal. The wedding cake was simple but he thought it was beautiful. Two tiers, pink flowers all around the edges on each layer. He splurged and had a tiny working fountain placed between the two tiers. This was his gift to his baby girl, the food and the cake.
The wedding went off without a hitch. Ben’s parents gave the two a nice fat check and this went towards a honeymoon to Niagara Falls. The wedding was paid for. His baby girl looked beautiful and the two were married. Now they were having fun on their honeymoon just like he and his wife did when they were young.
Everything put a way, John sat on the curb of Wal-Mart on his break remembering back to what once was and thinking about the new grandbabies he would hold some day, just like he and his wife used to do when their own kids came along.
He smiled to himself. Life is good. He was blessed, He worked hard and it paid off. He had raised a nice family. He got up from his sitting position. Break time was over. Time to start saving for those toys the new babies would need someday.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com, Daily Prompt, DP
Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re jealous of.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us GREEN.
It was silly and stupid if I may be so bold with honesty.
To be jealous over someone or something another human has makes no sense.
If a marriage or relationship was torn, being jealous over the new man/woman in their life really isn’t worth it in the end. Let’s face it, who wants someone who cheats on us? What if they do it again? I am not suggesting that every relationship fails when one cheats, but it is a struggle with trust in order to heal.
To be jealous over a gorgeous person should make us instead work harder at our own self-esteem issues. Each of us is gorgeous. God made us. Would he make us any other than beautiful?
Of course we can go to the make-up counters and then look in the mirror and see a stranger. We can curl, cut, straighten and color our hair. We can exercise, workout, run, ride bikes, pay for gyms, but it won’t change your beautiful heart and soul. It will only enhance the beautiful person you already are.
I tend to get jealous of people who can wear any shoes they desire. They can go to Wal-Mart and pick out a popular pair. I can not do this. In fact, yesterday I spent some time at the pharmacy being fitted for a pair of Diabetic Shoes. They aren’t nearly as beautiful and stylish as Macy’s shoes, but my feet don’t suffer in them. They are free to breathe and be in less pain.
It is my fault that I have to wear these shoes. I have been a Diabetic for 32 years. Instead of being jealous of what others have, I should be thankful I can still walk. I can still stand, and on the down side I could have turned a way so many of those foods I should not have eaten. So shame on me. Maybe I would have had bad feet in the end, but maybe I could have delayed it with better care of my own body.
I wouldn’t say that I get jealous of other people’s homes, but I do wish I owned that log cabin or big old Victorian home. The way I get through these petty issues is tell myself, if God wanted me to have that home, I would have it. Or, look at the cleaning I would constantly be doing in the big old Victorian home. I would have to hire housekeeping staff.
We, in general all have a tiny side to us that believe others have it better or are luckier than us. But in the end, we are exactly who God wants us to be, we are in the perfect position and moment God wishes us to be so we can learn and rely on his never-ending love.
In all I have no real reason to be jealous of anyone. I have a roof over my head. My bills are paid. There is food on the table. My brother is here, and God loves me, just the way I am. How could life be any better.