Archive for February, 2012

Waking Up

Feb 24 2012 Published by under Fiction

Harold opened his eyes slowly, carefully scanning the five inches of space directly in front of his face. He realized he was lying on his back, but he couldn’t immediately determine why he was on the floor and, in particular, why his neighbor Annette was leaning over him.

“Harry? Hairry? Honey, can you hear me?” Annette asked, fanning him with a financial planning magazine.

“Annette?” Harry answered, slowly raising his head toward his chest.

“Now you just lay right there for a second,” Annette answered, “Don’t be in a hurry to move.”

“I’ve got to sit up,” Harry insisted. He noticed a tall, slender young man kneeling next to him and reached his hand upward, motioning for assistance. Tim took Harold’s hand in his and pulled him forward. Harold sat up for a moment, then stood to his feet.

“Harry, wait. Take a second to catch your breath.” Annette insisted.

“Thanks, Annette.” Harold said, “But really, I’m fine.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tim answered, “I need to finish talking to Mr. Keystone about that survey I mentioned to you.”

“Well ok, I guess I’ll go on back home.” Annette said. “I’ll check on you tomorrow. You take it easy so you’ll be able to come to my Christmas party. Oh and Tim, I’d love for you to come too. And bring anybody you want with you.”

Harold thanked Annette again as he walked her to the door, although he didn’t quite know what he was thanking her for. He only remembered seeing Tim standing in his doorway and then waking up on the floor. He returned to the kitchen, and he and Tim stood there awkwardly in near silence for a few minutes. Tim nervously apologized for involving Annette, and explained he had hardly said three words before Annette had come running to the rescue.

“That’s ok. Annette is the neighborhood watch and she won’t have it any other way.” Harold said. Harold quickly finished seasoning the chicken and potatoes he had been preparing and placed them in the oven. Then, he remembered what had caused his spell. He swallowed hard, poured two glasses of water, and invited Tim to join him in the living room for a chat.

Nobody ever really hopes for an in-home accident. Not really. But, as he reached past Tim’s left shoulder to turn on a side table lamp, Harold almost wished he’d spill the glass of water in his hand, allowing just a few droplets of water to settle on the electrical outlet. That would cause another mini-disturbance and suspend time a few moments longer. He sat on the end of the sofa nearest to the recliner Tim had chosen, and leaned back, clasping his hands together behind his head, fingers intertwined. “So, what was it you were telling me a little while ago?” he asked.

“Well,” Tim answered, “you’re my biological father. My mom’s name is–”

“Paula.” Harold interrupted. “It has to be.”

“Yeah. I hope you’re not mad that I’m here.”

“I’m just shocked as hell. I mean. Whew. I can’t even think of what to say to you. What can I say to you? How old are you? How’s Paula doin?”

“I’m 16. She’s fine. She doesn’t know I’m here, which is why I have to leave soon. I just–”

“Wait.” Harold said. “Did you fly out here?”

“Yeah.” Tim felt his throat squeeze the breath from his words. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply, and explained, “I hope you’re not mad. I know it was wrong, but a few weeks ago when you got that call about the water quality survey, that was me and my friend who called you.”

“For real? I thought that guy who called sounded young, but I thought he might have been a college kid or somethin. How did you find me?” Harold realized that question might have been a bad one to ask. He hadn’t been hiding; he just didn’t think anybody would ever be looking for him. “I mean, how did you find my number?”

“I saw your friend Mr. Othello in a pizza shop and he gave it to me. I…I hope you’re not mad. I just wanted to introduce myself and I needed to see you. I hope you can understand that.” Tim stood up, and walked toward the front door. His heartbeat pounded in his eardrums, and he felt his throat squeeze even tighter.

“Wait. Can you stay a while? I just don’t know what to say. But, I want you to stay. I know this ain’t an accident, you comin’ here. I been thinkin bout Paula a lot lately and I wanted to call her so many times. I just didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t even know she, well we, had a son. I just need to wrap my mind around this.”

“Your food’s burning.” Tim said, pointing to the kitchen. Harold sprang up from the sofa and sprinted to the kitchen to snatch his pans of potatoes and chicken from the oven. Both pans were black, as well as the food in them.

“I heard you mention pizza a second ago. You wanna grab some now?” Harold asked, chuckling as he dumped the burned food into the trash can.

“Ok.”

Harold disappeared for a moment to gather his keys and wallet. Tim stood in the doorway and scanned the contents of the living room. There were a few framed photos, most of which were of a little girl. Tim obviously wondered if the girl might be his sister. One photo was of Harold and the girl opening Christmas presents together. Another was of them at the zoo.

“Ok. You ready? There’s a place about six blocks from here if you feel like walking.” Harold turned on the porch light and opened the front door.

They walked in silence for the first block, both nervous, trying to appear unaffected. By the time they had reached the second block, Harold figured basketball would be an easy opening topic for discussion. He estimated Tim was about 6‘4” tall, so he assumed he must have a passing interest in the game. So, he was unprepared when Tim told him he didn’t play. But, he rebounded by mentioning football, and was secretly relieved his son liked at least one real sport.

Tim told Harold about his school life, informed him that Paula was a nurse, and talked about his day-to-day life. As they walked the rest of the way to the restaurant, and as they ate their pizza, Harold listened to Tim basically tell him how awesome Paula had been as a parent. He didn’t think it was meant as any type of slight, and he didn’t take it that way. But, it did make him wish he could have prepared for this meeting. He wished he could have been sitting with Paula and Tim. He wished he could have had Zoe, his daughter, over for the weekend too, just to meet her big brother. He listened as much as he could as Tim talked, but he had already begun to plan a few things.

“So ummm,” Harold said, “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At a hotel by the airport. So, I’ll take a cab back out there tonight.”

“You must be joking. You gotta stay at my house.”

“Look,” Tim paused, “I know why you’re saying that, but you don’t have to. I’m not asking you to do anything. I just wanted to meet you.”

“I get that. But you didn’t ask. I offered.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Ok. I just need to cancel the reservation.”

Harold and Tim walked leisurely back to the house. Harold noticed Tim’s long, purposeful gait. He was a cool dude, and Harold was proud already. It made no sense to be proud so soon, but he was. He saw Paula’s fingerprint all over Tim, and he was proud to have a connection to her, albeit rather late in arriving.

The sun had begun to set, and the neighborhood children worked hard to squeeze in a little more play time in their front yards before dark. After they got home, Tim and Harold spent the rest of the evening chatting and watching television. The nervous energy began to evaporate slowly, and they even shared a hearty laugh when Annette came by again just to make sure Harold was ok. When it was time for bed, Harold placed bath items and an extra blanket in an all-pink bedroom.

“I’m sorry it’s so girly.” Harold apologized. “Zoe, my daughter, sleeps in here when she visits. If it’s too much, I can pull out the sofa bed. I just thought you might want some privacy.”

“It’s no prob. This is cool. Thanks a lot.”

“Alright. If you need anything I’m down the hall.”

As soon as Harold shut the bedroom door, Tim exhaled. He leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He was exhausted. He changed clothes and before getting under the covers and turning off the light, he sent a text to Paula. He knew she was likely asleep, but he wanted her to know he was thinking of her. When he had finally settled into bed, he almost felt as if he had already been dreaming for the past 24 hours. He replayed every snippet of his conversation with Harold, and tried to picture what the next day would be like. He drifted off to sleep with the realization that in a few short hours, he would be waking up in his father’s house for the first time in his life.

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untitled

Feb 17 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

just a few words today
really short and sweet
if you wanna see some change your way
just begin to move your feet

take teeny tiny baby steps
or big ol’ giant leaps
get a hefty dose of courage
and just begin to move your feet

throw away those doubts and fears
they ain’t nothing you wanna keep
put that inner smile in gear
and just begin to move your feet

your hands and head might hesitate
about the path they cannot see
but tell them that your heart can’t wait
and just begin to move your feet

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Thinking and Doing

Feb 10 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

I’ve had an idea for some time now (read: maybe a year or more) that I’ve been intending to develop. I have thought about it, rationalized it, over-rationalized it, under-rationalized it, sat on it, dreamed about it, ignored it, remembered it, almost-wanted-to-obsess over it, and generally just thought about it for all this time with very little action. Although it’s not something I have talked about much, I have sincerely wanted to move forward with the idea. And, although I know better, I essentially believed all this time that I had an indefinite amount of time to get it done, simply because it’s my original idea.

Well, what happens when your original idea becomes someone else’s original idea? I don’t mean, what if someone steals your idea, but what if the idea you were inactively possessing pops into someone else’s head too? And what if that person takes the idea and makes it sing? I can’t say with certainty how that might make you feel (because maybe you have amazing new ideas every day), but that’s what I thought was happening to me earlier this week and, to put my feelings mildly, I was crushed.

The good news is, my concern for a great opportunity lost was simply a false alarm. The idea I thought someone else had developed that would be identical to mine was actually something totally different. A funny thing happened afterward, however. I wanted to actually work on the idea. I mean really work, not just think or plan. It wasn’t until I thought someone else had seized the opportunity I had been wasting that I realized how much it was worth to me. I have no doubt that all my thinking to date has been beneficial, but now it’s time to do the actual work to make this idea materialize. As my sister says, the farmer doesn’t plow his field by turning the soil over in his head.

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Just a Spoonful of Sugar

Feb 03 2012 Published by under Uncategorized

I almost changed the words I intended for this post for fear of beating a dead horse. I pictured those who faithfully read these posts thinking, “Ok, I get it. Remain positive. See the good in people and situations. Put on your happy face. What else you got?” But, since remaining true to oneself is part of the motivation behind this blog, I decided to continue with my initial thoughts for this week’s entry.

One of my favorite parts of the movie Mary Poppins is when she sings A Spoonful of Sugar while cleaning up. It always makes me chuckle because for as much as I can do without an afternoon of housework, I’m always up for a cheery tune or sing-along. So, yes, I sometimes hum or sing while I work (no whistling though, because I don’t know how to do it), and it really does make the work a little easier.

Although you might think that song came to mind because spring cleaning is near, I actually thought of it as I reflected on a thank-you I received this week. A week or two ago, I learned that a friend of mine is dealing with a very difficult situation. As soon as I heard about it, I lifted her up in prayer, and felt thankful I’m not experiencing such a storm. But, I just couldn’t help feeling like I should do just a little more to let her know I was thinking of her. I found a simple card and mailed it to her a few days later. Well, earlier this week, my friend sent me a text message thanking me for the card I had sent. She told me she had received the card–on the same day she had received even more terrible news. I was sad to hear of the added hardship she’s facing, but I felt so glad I had sent the card. I didn’t know when she would receive the card when I placed it in the mailbox, but it was ultimately delivered at just the right time.

There have been many occasions when I have felt prompted to do something simple for someone, such as a sending a text message, making a phone call, or baking a simple dessert. I try not to ignore that urge because I understand such small, sweet gestures could be just what someone needs at that moment. I can’t count the number of times I have experienced such generosity and, especially in times when I have faced a really difficult situation, it has made all the difference.

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