Rochelle has gifted us a rerun today, except when I looked closer, it’s a re-rerun. Still, my story features two of my favourite characters, so here they are again.
Not sure what it says about how long I’ve been Friday Fictioneering when things come back for a second time 😉
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House Move
(A true story)
“Label all the boxes,” I said, for the hundredth time. “We need to be able to find things when we get there.”
I passed around Sharpies and glared at anyone who suggested they might get to it later.
Of course, a computer is only as good as its programmer and a label is only as good as its writer.
So I stand here, in front of a wall nearly high enough to keep Donald Trump happy, and every single box is labelled. I should find my boots no trouble.
Except a full 24 of the boxes are called “Basement: Misc”
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Stuck On You
“It won’t come off!” Matty shakes his leg, increasingly annoyed at the bur stuck there.
“I know how that feels,” I say, laughing. “You used to cling to me that way.”
“I did NOT!”
“You always wanted to be carried, even when you were too big. I think you just wanted to sneak in those extra hugs.”
He’s too big for hugs now. Wouldn’t dream of embracing his mother in public.
“Well, how did you get me off?” He’s tugging at the seedpod again.
“I waited. And you grew up.”
“I’m not waiting until this thing turns into a tree!”
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Promises
When Dad died, I sobbed about who’d walk me up the aisle. He wrapped me in a bear hug and said, “I’ll be there.” I didn’t even have a boyfriend, but my brother’s promise was what I needed.
Haven’t seen him in years; it’s Joe who holds my hand now.
But today, Joe’s inside and I’m out here alone, smoothing out my train.
There’s a shout from the lake and a boat roars into view. I don’t know what Joe or our priest will think about his attire, but we keep promises in our family. That’s gotta count for something.
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elmowrites 