Nerves are mashed,
Dreams are dashed,
Where do I go from here?
Walmart is cruel,
Especially at Yule,
I am back in the primordial ooze.
An amoeba am I,
As I earnestly try,
To understand the 12 year-old Sales Clerk.
On Gateway, on Acer, on HP and Dell
Just pick one already
And get out of this hell.
The Myans were right,
The END is in sight,
Credit WINDOWS 8 with my destruction !
“What ya doing?” my older Brother, J.J. asked as he stood in the door of my bedroom.
“Nothing.” I said
“Well you look stupid.”
“Well, you look stupider.” I sassed as he spun around to leave, nearly knocking over my 6- year old Sister, Chibby.
Then Chib took her turn in my doorway, “What ya doing?” Her ability for original thought had not fully developed.
“Nothing, I’m doing NOTHING….OK?” Then I heard my Mother’s voice,
“What’s going on in there? I told you no fighting today. I mean it…No Fighting. Supper is almost ready, get washed up.”
I clearly remember this scene as I look at a picture of my bedroom from 1960. I had just turned 8-years old a week before the photo was taken. My gifts that year were a blue and white blouse, a new baseball glove, a new bedspread and a feather duster. The feather duster was my Mother’s subtle reminder to keep my room clean.
I was sitting on the floor leaning against the side of my bed, legs straight in front of me. Reggie, our collie was stretched out the full length along my right leg with his chin resting on the feather duster. He thought that was the best toy ever; his own bird on a stick. It was just after Thanksgiving and the aroma of turkey still linger in the air. It was just beginning to snow as a Johnny Mathis record played on the stereo in the living room.
I remember thinking as I sat there looking out my window, “This is the best day of my life. Everybody is home, I have a new blue and green bedspread and a better baseball glove than my brother. Reggie is warm and we are going to have leftover turkey sandwiches for dinner.”
Cherish the true beauty found in the minutia of life.