His name was Kevin, the gentle Pomimo, and despite his small stature and meekness, he was a giant in our family—full of love and life. Many nights, my sister and I would walk with him, sharing our thoughts, concerns, frustrations about life and family; all the while, the sweet beast wagged beside us. He was privy to many intimate moments, and if anyone knew our family history, it was him, our cherished guardian and loyal protector of secrets. Rest well, my dear companion. May you forever roam and root peacefully, in the fields of heaven.
(more…)Tag: wip
-
Sauce
No matter the kind of day I’ve had, I can always come home, knowing good and well, that I am, and always will be, the tomato sauce boss. Just you try a taste and see if you disagree. Go on, I’ll wait… There, now doesn’t that just make everything better. Get on now, I’ll call you down for supper…
(more…) -
Fathom
“Go and get me a fathom of rope from that pile over there.”
(more…)
…
“Did you hear me, or have you gone deaf?!”
…
“Well, say something, you idiot! We haven’t got much time.”
“uh, what’s a fathom…”
“Never mind. I’ll do it—just keep watch and let me know if you see anything.”
…
“Anything weird! God, you’re impossible!” -
A Minimalist, #3
Saturday morning, the long awaited weekend is finally here! My friend, Sergio, agrees to come with me to the sale. He picks me up at my place, blasting his music as I come out to meet him.
Serg doesn’t share my enthusiasm for bargain hunting, but he’s a good friend and is always down to join me for an adventure. I don’t think I deserve a friend like him. He’s seen me through some difficult times, and he’s here with me now.
(more…)
“Where is this place,” he asks as I get in the car.
“Vienna. Not far,” and we’re off, speakers rattling all the way.
We get there quick. Whenever Serg is behind the wheel, physics don’t apply, and we turn a 45-minute trip into half an hour. We’re so fast that we’re the first to arrive. We might actually be early, for once. No other cars are present, and we park in an enviable spot.
“Where’d you find this place,” he asks me.
“Online. Saw an ad on Fartbook and figured it’d be worth checking out.”
“Online, huh…”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing, man. Probably shouldn’t bring it up right now… You doing ok?”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s just that I haven’t heard from you in a while, and…”
“I’m fine. Really. Everything’s just okie-dokie. Couldn’t be better.”
“Okie-dokie, huh…”
“Look, if you’re worried about something we can talk about it later. Let’s get in there and look around—find all the good stuff before it gets taken.”
Sergio glances at the empty driveway. “I don’t think we have to worry about that, man.”
The Ragged Journal 