A story about a woman who is approaching her 60th birthday xo
An entire life lived unobstrusively without any vibrant tinge or ruddiness.
Upon the walls and ceilings of her family crest not a speck of fiesty refusal.
She soberly reflected and owned up to the fact that in a few days she was
going to turn 60. Polishing the furniture with a soak-rag she heard a smarmy
remark coming from her west, "Put your back into it" was the mutter from the
side lines from her mastrious man. "A life time of servitude and loyalty where
did it get me?" she half queried as she scrambled to get his grub.
Her brows were knitted so tightly she thought they would titan on her forhead
into the shape of a welcome noose. "if I should be so lucky" she thought....
The miser always refused to buy anything he considered frivolous that included
butter, jam, and peanut butter. Those were items she could only enjoy if she five
finger shopped at the local deli. So quietly she took her cup of coffee and went off
to dream on the second floor balcony. "She day dreamed of Simon and his green eyes.
The way he sliced the meat at the deli with those big strong hands."One caresss from
them hands and she would melt like churned butter? " she sighed and sipped in slow.
"One day she thought, one day, "
February 15 arrived there was no Happy Birthday message from the old goat. Instead
she spotted sixty pink flamingos planted firmly on her front lawn. Her heart gave a
thump and her soul grew two sizes that day. "I need my fix " she speculed.
Dipping in the urge for tastey jam she plucked her purse from the bottom drawer
opened the front door and went to "Magnoni's Deli Spot" cafe . The overhead bell rang.
"Well look who it is it's the birthday girl!" chimed Simon with his best Sunday smile.
"How did you like the pink flamingos, Lady?" She walked behind the glass counter
slid her hands inside his big overcoat and pulled out two little jammies. Then she
lifted his large hand to her lips and planted a warm kiss in the middle of his palm."
Simon stayed glued to the floor. He didn't move nor breathe. He had been loving
her for twenty somethin' years and she had never once crossed the threshold of
his pine. He repressed the temptation to kiss her, " Enjoy the jam, my lady," was
all he said. She smiled clutching the jams then glided out of the store as if
she owned two wings. She did, because of a man named, Simon Ching.
Exquisite! You have a striking knack for unusual words, some may even be of your invention, and I so like that*. I do it, too :) This is a twice-read-through to get the essence of it, and a curiosity. In this one short vignette so much is happening. Instant fondness for ‘Lady,’ and profuse bravo for her flamingoman. Great imagination and full of energy and resurgence. Love it* ~~ djl
A cute little story that would certainly relax any tightened brow. I can't help thinking that those obvious pink flamingos in the front yard might raise the ire of the old goat.
Upon reading I was reminded of two remarks on separate occasions that my once part-time secretary of many hats (she was the vice president's receptionist and did typing for me and others). A cheerful young woman, she loved to dance with me in abandon at office parties back when we had alcohol during them. But I learned later that her husband was insanely jealous and often lurked nearby to spy on her as she greeted many visitors to the office.
The remarks were: "You know, Ron. I had to give up. I'll never be a skinny minnie!" and "God, I need an affair!" I don't know if she just was confiding in me, or she wanted me to take the bait. I didn't. ;-)
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