Bad Girl

When my kids were little, the two girls shared a room and bed.  There is nearly 3 years of difference between my girls.  The oldest daughter had, and still has, moments of care and tenderness to her siblings.  She also had other moments. 

B has a way of pushing buttons and loved to push buttons belonging to her sister, L.  I found out after the fact but B used to take L’s favorite stuffed toy dog, Cupcake, and torture it.  I suppose it is better said B tortured L with what she did to it. 

I didn’t know what was happening until I was in their room one day and saw the ceiling fan spinning wobbly.  I asked what happened.  L, suddenly working up the tears, told me B called her to the room.  She enters the room and Cupcake is tied to and hanging from the ceiling fan.  Once L saw her beloved toy hanging from the ceiling fan she got upset.  Then B turned on the ceiling fan.  She became frantic watching her favorite doggie spinning around the room.  

Another thing B liked to do was throw stuffed animals belonging to L and her little brother, W, into the ceiling fan while it was spinning.  She laughed as it would fly to different parts of the room every time one was thrown into the fan. 

One other thing to share is this:  B liked to talk to L after they were in bed and it was time to be quiet.  Their bedroom was on the opposite end of the hallway from ours.  Still, we normally heard some sort of commotion going on in their room.  I’d find myself getting up and walking to their room to tell them to be quiet and go to sleep.  I’d walk into the room and, from the light from the hallway, I’d see B with a devilish smile on her face as L tries to snuff out her giggles. 

I can’t tell you the number of times I’d return later only to find B crawling on the floor and looking at me with a shocked look on her face.  Was she really surprised to see me?  At the time it made me laugh (It still does.) but I had to stifle the humor I saw in the situation. 

When you have four kids, you find yourself continually challenged and entertained.  Let’s face it, if you have children, you don’t need television.  They continually do something to occupy your time.  We are still entertained as we relive these moments. 

Pearls

A curse of modicums that grate

Tears bathe to sate

Each sting adds to the string

Life equals pain a given

Each ache is livin’

I’m meek because I’m weak

We spread seeds of our pain

Cursing all with same

Regret I bear each I share

Each pearl pulled from me

Never wanted to be

Not so rare, many there

© October 2017

Duane Windell Phillips

Shorties: Number 44

It started with his oldest daughter’s birthday.  Eugene remembered when the family watched home movies and her first birthday began to play on the television.  Eugene remembered this was during a time the family was in the process of moving and everyone was in their new home except Eugene.  He hadn’t been released from his old job yet.  His wife, Jenny, and Eugene smiled as they viewed an important slice of life. 

Eugene felt regret in his heart he missed that special day.  He was about to express his heart when he saw himself on the screen.  Taken aback, he looked at his wife who, in her peripheral vision saw his head abruptly turn to her, looked at Eugene with a smile.  She recognized his face reflected no pleasure.  She asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I was there?”

“Yes, of course you were.”

Often, Eugene forgot something but with a prompt, the connection was made in his brain and the memory returned to him.  This was not the case.  No hint of recollection was found.  The randomness with which memories were stored confused and aggravated Eugene.  Deep down, it frightened him.  He didn’t want to be someone who knew not his children or friends.  The prospect disturbed him greatly.  The day Jenny died, Eugene wished to recall every moment they shared.  More than anything, he wanted to hold onto them like precious pearls. 

It wasn’t until he speaking with a friend about his departed wife that Eugene found his recollections we’re always correct.  He found people correcting him about certain details of stories he told.  It angered him.  He began to pull into himself.  That is, until his doctor prescribed medicine that helped dementia and memory loss.  Eugene found there were improvements.  It wasn’t perfect but the fog seemed to leave his head. 

His heart broke again when he received the news his son died in combat.  Unlike when his wife died, many memories were true.  He found it all bittersweet.  He was happy to accurately remember his wife and son with his remaining daughter.  The final straw was the day after his daughter’s funeral.  Eugene bemoaned burying his wife and two children.  His daughter’s death was doubly cruel.  She and the baby died during childbirth. 

Eugene made up his mind.  He would never again take the pills prescribed by his doctor.  He would remain in the stupor of his mind.  He would forget.  Ignorance was better than knowing what really was and would never be again. 

Flower in Bloom

Flower in bloom
In another garden
Omnipresent beauty
Soothing presence
Heart of light
Cherished
 
Uprooted, removed
A sudden cavity
Raw nerves exposed
Coveted blossom
Gone
 
Incessantly missed
Highly revered
Never possessed
Forever cherished
Bereft
 
© 2017 DWP

Shorties: Number 43

With a heart encumbered by a world of cares, Pete struck a match and cupped his hand around it in a protective reflex.  He had too many matches blown out over the years before they could do their work.  Inching closer to the kindling he set up, he relished the aroma wafting to his nostrils.  Once the kindling caught fire, he carefully added dry leaves and trigs and watched it gain strength.  Soon, Pete could warm himself while cooking his supper. 

Anxiety had built over the last months and Pete simply could not purge it all from his heart.  In a desperate attempt to gain clarity, he traveled alone to the mountains.  He wanted to commune with nature and seek his God.  With a chill in his bones, Pete knew he would need to wear many layers as he tried to sleep later.  He doubted sleep would find him.  It would wander the woods all weekend.  Sleep wouldn’t be found until he finally reached his bed Sunday night. 

While supper was cooking, Pete set up his Eno hammock.  He carefully placed a foam liner in the bottom.  It would insulate him from the cold seeking to suck the warmth from his body.  The liner and the clothing layers were his only defense against the colder than normal temperatures.  Once the hammock and a rain covering were done, he returned to the fire and his meal.  Pete carefully removed the aluminum foil covered meal from the fire and began eating.  His legs straight out, Pete warmed his feet while being careful not to overcook his hiking boots. 

Each bite was chewed thoughtlessly while staring into the fire.  It always amazed him watching flames lick away the life from the wood and left ashes in its wake.  Was it some hereditary thing our ancestors gave us after spending millennia around fires?  Would man forever feel something natural and comforting about a controlled fire?  Fire would forever a double edged sword.  It was a tool that assisted and destroyed man. 

Once his meal was finished, Pete walked to the stream to wash his plate and spork.  With the headlamp illuminating each step, he considered the water temperature.  It would be freezing and he had to clean with bare hands.  Knelt down, Pete stuck both hands, which were holding the items to be cleaned, into the water.  Numbing cold bit into his skin and in shock, Pete gasped.  Then he remembered how his father used to admonish him to embrace it with a shout.  Like when he was a boy, Pete cried out, “Woohoo!  Yeah baby, that will get your attention!” 

Pained and numb fingers prompted Pete to quickly finish the business at hand.  The moment he finished, Pete hurried back to the fire shaking the plate and spork.  He was glad he decided to wash while the fire blazed.  A smaller fire would have taken longer to warm his hands.  Once his digits began to thaw, Pete put his items away and began preparing for sleep.  He hated taking clothes off only to put on extra layers but he had to endure or suffer later.  Cold air on bare skin brings much motivation and Pete quickly finished and again warmed himself.  He wanted his clothing and body to absorb as much heat as possible to ward off the frosty air during the night. 

Peering into the embers, Pete faintly heard the creek bubbling through the rocks.  Like watching the flames, Pete let the sound sooth him.  Between the shimmering coals that danced about the base of the fire and the gurgling waters, nature worked to release all the world of man pent up in his soul.  Later, as he shivered in his hammock, Pete prayed and pondered the vast universe and all the beauty it held.  While he knew some facts about heavenly bodies beyond the Milky Way, Pete couldn’t help but consider one thing:  Everyone he knew was on this planet.  It made him wish everyone on earth would work more to get along.  Sure, we can’t agree on everything but do we really have to go to war?

At the time he couldn’t enjoy it all.  Pete was busy fighting off frigid temperature.  It wasn’t until Tuesday he realized how fire burned away the chaff accumulated in his soul.  Then the brook washed away all that wasn’t needed and left him feeling whole once again.  Finally, he felt ready to love again. 

Childish Dreams

Idyllic meadows
Companions sublime
Seeking perfection
Like heavenly wine
 
Chasing the fireflies
Dragons to slay
Never to see the
End of the day
 
Neverland come
Let my eyes gleam
My heart aches
Fulfill this dream
 
Boundless drive
No world of care
The earth is perfect
Since you are there
 
© October 2017
Duane Windell Phillips

Shorties: Number 42

With one end of the metal shaft a dull color of red, Matt pulled it from the furnace with a long set of tongs.  Once he was certain it was securely held, he dipped it into a bucket of oil.  A cloud of smoke wafted skyward.  Matt lifted the metal and promptly submerged it again.  He added, “I need to do the other end now.”

With an anxious tone, Tim replied, “Uh, ok.”

Matt had already advised Tim of the importance of properly tempering the metal in order to make it a usable tool.  If it wasn’t done correctly, it would either shatter or the end meant to make a mark would simply be blunted.  Tim simply wanted a passing grade on his shop project.  He feared he wouldn’t.  Once Matt finished with the other side of the center punch, he let it cool.  He asked, “You wanna test it?”

Immediately, Tim shook his head.  “No, I don’t.” 

“Ok, I’ll do it.” 

Matt picked up a piece of scrap metal from the scrap pile and placed it on the work bench.  Then making sure his gloves would absorb the any residual heat in the center punch, he picked it up with his left hand and placed the tip on a random spot on the scrap metal.  As he tilted it vertical, Matt considered asking if Tim was ready.  It didn’t matter.  The tool had to be tested.  He raised the hammer and fiercely pounded the center punch repeatedly. 

With each blow, the collision repeated throughout the shop and Tim winced.  He just knew the tip was flattened.  Matt stopped and without hesitation, he turned his hand to see the results of the test.  The tip was perfect.  Tim smiled in relief.  He still wasn’t sure of the grade he would get since there were defects in appearance.  He struggled terribly in the class. 

Appraising the tool in his hands, Mat said, ”It isn’t a perfect center punch but it will be a good and useful tool for the rest of your life.”

“Really?”

“Yes, when it comes to tools, appearance isn’t all that important.  It is all in how it is made.  You have all the basics here and we properly tempered it.  This is a good tool.”

Tim smiled.  Then his teacher added to the student who had many obstacles to overcome in his young life.  “Tim, you need to understand that we all endure fires in life.  They will either burn us up or make us the useful tool we are supposed to be. 

Tim lowered his eyes to the shop floor as emotion welled up inside him.  Matt added, “You have the proper metals in you and you are being tempered.  Someday, you will be the tool needed for something specific.  Only a center punch can do the work of a center punch.  If that’s what you are, be the best one you can be.  You hear me?”

Nodding, Tim replied, “Yes, sir.  Thank you.”

My Only Hope

Great storms of life crash

Buffeting still
Feeling the lash
Tossed about the din
Losing my will
Recompense sin
Beaten and shattered
Life so near loss
Rags all tattered
Weak and going down
Surf still doth toss
Open lips to drown
Pulling to great depths
Weakening me
Living my deaths
Deep ocean and dark skies
Wanting to be
Seeking your eyes
Weakened, my will
With look of love
Oh, sustain me still
Tis my only rope
This light above
My only hope
 
 
© October 2017
Duane Windell Phillips

 

Shorties: Number 41

A story fitting for the month of Halloween. 

“Oh, Jason was so cute yesterday?” Melissa said.

Breanne replied as she began pumping the bulb to take her patient’s blood pressure, “What’d he do this time?” 

“He started trying to walk.”

“No!  Really?”

“Yes, he was standing, holding onto the couch and I was telling him what a big boy he is and he just let go and started walking to me.  I got so excited I literally squealed like little girl.”

Breanne smiled and laughed as she prepared to clean and disinfect a vein on George’s left arm.  It would soon be used to supply fluids and some drugs during George’s dental extractions.  Breanne’s face was covered by the surgical mask she wore.  Melissa’s mask was pulled down and exposed her nose but covered her mouth.  George couldn’t help but look at her eyes.  She had the prettiest eyes and a sweet laugh. 

Hearing the story of Jason attempting to walk distracted George from the fear crawling up from the pit of his gut.  Ever since a string of bad dental experiences, he swore he would never again sit in a dentist’s chair.  Too bad he didn’t take better care of his teeth.  He could have avoided this day.  Instead, a week of pain from three large cavities forced him to make the call for a visit. 

Now a day after the initial consultation, George just wanted it all to be over.  Breanne peered down to her patient.  She asked, “You doin’ ok, Mr. George?”

Forcing a smile and giving a big sigh, George replied, “I just want it to be over.”

The doctor walked in as Melissa said, “Don’t you worry about a thing.  We’re gonna take care of you.”

Breanne added, “Yes, it will all be over soon enough.”

George couldn’t help but notice an ominous tone but he could only read her eyes.  He felt nervous tension rise within him.  Then Dr. Craig announced, “Good morning all!  How are you doing today Mr. George?”

Both nurses chimed in unison, “Good morning, doctor.”

George added, “I’m doing as well as expected, I guess.”

More prep work was completed and George sat on chair that was now reclining.  Dr. Craig said, “Ok, I’m going to give you just a little bit of this stuff to make sure you don’t have an allergic reaction.”

“Ok.”

“Ok, you should feel a little coldness in your vein about now.”

“Ok.”

Soon, George had a feeling like his whole being was sliding down.  Thoughts and sights were sliding through time.  Each vision and thought had a trailing edge to them.  He turned his head back and forth as he looked at the three masked people standing above him.  Dr. Craig asked, “Do you feel any itchiness?”

With a slur, George said, “N, nooo.  I don’t ffeeeellll aaannny ttthhhingggg.”

The trio exchanged glances.  Their eyes changed.  Suddenly, George noticed vile, menacing eyes glaring at him.  Was it the drugs?  He saw Dr. Craig shoot another needle into the tube running to his arm and the doctor added, “This will take care of you.”  The nurses laughed maniacally as each revealed a scalpel. 

George started to protest.  He thought he was raising his arms but nothing moved.  Consciousness left him.  As reality faded, George felt cutting begin on his chest and stomach.  He vaguely noted light as Dr. Craig opened his eyes in order to remove them.

When they finished, Dr. Craig announced sorrow over the loss of Mr. George.  Then he added, “At least he died saving the lives of ten of our richest friends.  He will even help a teenage boy regain his sight.”