Microstories: Slippery

Tick 

A squalling newborn

Tock

I merely blinked

And the minutes have

Disintegrated,

Dust in my trembling hands.

The wind whisks all away

No matter how tightly I

Drip

Clench my fists around them.

Drop

When did my baby boy turn eight?

Microstories: Reunion

His grief stopped everything.

Pendulums, covered in opaque stillness,

Intricate gears rusted into grudging quiescence.

Yet

His heart keeps perfect time

The seconds always counting down,

Until she stands before him again,

her eyes radiant.

And he knows

The time is now.

Time

"What the hell happened to us?"

Laura was stretched out in her favorite chair, her neatly pedicured feet resting on the ottoman.  Her face was washed, her contacts in their usual resting place next to the sink, and I knew from experience that she would be drifting off soon after I started the movie.

"What are you yammering about?"  I sat on the couch, my own face devoid of makeup, trying to use the remote on an uncooperative blu ray player.

"We used to be out every Friday and Saturday, dressed up, partying all the time," Laura took a sip of her wine.  "We used to come home at dawn.  We used to wake up in strange places.  Now look at us--home on a Saturday, and at least one of us will be asleep within the hour.  It's not even nine!"

I nodded. I'd heard this song before. I finally got up to press the 'start' button on the blu ray player, since the remote wasn't cooperating. 

Laura sat up.

"Let's go out," she said.  "Let's go to a club and dance until they close. Let's drink and just have fun for a change."

"Laura," I sat down and picked up my glass of wine. "It takes you at least an hour to do your hair just the way you like it. We wouldn't get out of here before ten."

"I'll just leave my hair up.  Come on, you know that you want to go out!"

"You can't tolerate cigarette smoke in the bars," I counted on my fingers. "It gives you the sniffles, and people think you've been doing coke. The clubs will be packed, and there won't be any place to park close by.  We'll have to walk at least a mile, and you hate that."  I waited for a response, but Laura just leaned back in her chair and picked up her own wine glass.

"Yeah, you're right. Too much trouble."

We sat, sipping our wine in companionable silence.  

"Remember that time we started a fire in the ash tray at that dance club?"

We smiled at the memory.

"You know how we got when we were bored,"  I laughed.  We'd been quite rowdy in our twenties, always looking for a good time.  And finding it.  In our forties, Saturday night was a different chapter, in another book entirely. 



I know what sort of mood I was trying to convey, but I'm not sure that I actually accomplished it.  Concrit is welcome.

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”
~Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

Red Writing Hood: 8:00 PM

Prompt: This week I want you to take me to your version of 8:00 -AM or PM, fiction or creative nonfiction- in 200 words or less. This is a typical 8:00 PM at my house. I refuse to acknowledge mornings until at least 10:00 AM.


A knight in shining armor races by us, plastic duct-taped sword upraised. He is slaying dragons and saving the world. Behind him lie the remains of all that he has conquered. I laugh; my knight has his armor on backwards! I look over at my husband, who smiles back at me, and closes his laptop. We pull ourselves up from the couch.

My tiny hero gallops by us again, charging into the fray.

"Time for bed," I tell him.

Time To Breathe

I come from a military family. The military is all about promptness. If you are a soldier and you are supposed to be somewhere at 0500 hours, you darn well better be there or there would be consequences. My father took that promptness habit very seriously. That means that if we were supposed to be somewhere at ten in the morning, we were there a half hour early. I was always the last one ready to go. I hated having to sit around and wait for anything, and I would do everything I could to delay. I was a kid with no intention of watching the clock, ever.

My parents were determined, however. As a result of their endeavors, I have become a bit of a clock-watcher. I always wear a watch so I know what time it is and how much time I have to be where ever I am supposed to be. I also always feel like I am rushing from one place to another. That rushed, stressed feeling brings to mind a song I heard a long time ago, by Alabama. (Don't judge me--I like the old country)

I'm in a hurry to get things done
I rush and rush until life's no fun.
All I really gotta do is live and die,
But I'm in a hurry and don't know why.

I'll bet that most of you have this Pink Floyd song in your head!

Run, rabbit Run
Dig that hole, catch the sun
When at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

Even though I work in education, I don't usually have my entire summer off like teachers do. I usually end up with days scheduled here and there throughout, so that I work a couple of days a week. I never really feel like I have a break, because I don't have time to get used to being off of work. Add to that our 'summer' hours, which are from 7:30am to 5:00 Mondays through Thursdays, and it makes everything worse.

This summer, I had the entire month of July off. I arranged all the days that I had to work in June, and I don't have to be back at work until August 8th. I worried about this time off. I thought, what is a clock-watcher like me to do with all that unscheduled time? How will I be able to let go and just relax until it is time to return to work?

It was suspiciously easy.

I took off my watch. I put my calendar away. I haven't looked at either of them until recently, when I discovered that my watch battery had expired. I suppose that it died of loneliness, since I unceremoniously dumped it on the counter in the bathroom. I lost all feel of time passing. Only when I happened to glance at the wall clock would I notice what time it was. It was kind of liberating, to lose awareness of the number of hours in the day.

My family did just fine without me to remind them of events or the time. We left when we wanted and since I didn't care what time we got to our destination, I wasn't screaming at anyone to hurry. I wasn't hurrying myself along, either. It was miraculous how unchained I felt!

I slept late when I wanted.

I went to bed when I wanted.

I read all day long on a couple of occasions. I've actually lost count of the number of books I was finally able to read.

I worked on my beading and jewelry making.

I surfed the web, and I blogged.

And most importantly, I spent time with my family. We went on two mini-vacations together. We went to the movies together. We played Rock Band. We played Lego Batman and Robin. We even went swimming, because I finally felt relaxed enough that I could put on a swim suit and get in the pool with my boy. I actually swam across the pool a couple of times! It has been glorious to be cut loose from those things that make me feel tied up and cornered. My time off has been much more relaxing this summer, and I've been able to breathe.

But it will soon be August 8th, and I will have to reattach myself to the time. It is necessary for work--I have to be on time to collect a paycheck, and other people count on me to be on time to appointments, meetings, staffings, observations, etc.
There's a reason they call it the "Grind". Can I keep this feeling of summer, this feeling of relaxation?

Probably not.