Skip to main content

A Creative Piece

He thought it was going to be a typical Saturday. He arose from the couch at 5 am, still wearing his jeans, belt, and sweater from the night before. The dog, who had been serving as his blanket, stood by the door waiting for his master to let him out so he could bark at the moon. The fat gray cat, that had been serving as his scarf, meowed incessantly, circling about his feet, making him stumble and curse under his breath. He grabbed a diet coke, fed the cats, and fell back onto the couch in hopes to catch a few more moments of sleep. Until a small shadow made its way down the hallway toward him and launched her body on him. The sun had yet to rise and he was awake for the day.

As the hours passed he went through the motions of the day, just like any other weekend day. He wrote checks. He checked email. He emptied the trash. He referreed fights between the kids. If he was lucky, he'd be able to sneak out to the dump, take the long way home, and get some peace and quiet. He was just about to slip on his boots and be on his way when he heard her enter his office. His heart quickened and his breath shortened, his palms, sweaty. Feeling anger in the pit of his stomach he turned the corner and entered the room. His eyes darted around and landed on her, hunched over on the ground, sifting through a stack of papers. She was talking to him, her voice high pitched and irritating. Without saying a word to her he lurched to the ground and grabbed the papers. She reached out, trying to stop him, wrapping her hand on his wrist. He jerked away from her, feeling of violation building as he grasped the situation. She threw open his desk drawer and rifled through its contents. A half eaten bag of sunflower seeds, a stack of business cards, several post-it notes, a button, an old shoe lace, a bottle opener- all of these momentos, memories, moments. All of these-his.

Like a slow motion bad dream, he watched her systematically take everything out of every drawer and every box, yapping about organization. The children, arguing in the hallway, sounded muffled and far away, as though he was under water. She looked at him, tried to smile while man-handling his papers. Was that his high school graduation tassle she had in her hand? A Hans Solo piggy bank in the other? He couldn't keep up with her ripping through his belongings. He snatched the piggy bank away from her and she put her hand on his shoulder and smiled again saying something about color coordinated wicker bins she saw at Target. Was she mocking him? Was this a cruel joke? He shrugged her off. As quickly as he could he ran through the house, placing items under the bed, in his night stand, tucked into the back of a drawer in the kitchen. She became angry with him, shouting that she'd find what he was hiding and would put it in a box and store it in the garage. The garage! How dare she take away his things and store them away from him? Why did it matter that he wanted to keep a few things close by? What harm was it causing? Who was he hurting and why was she was now hurting him and controling him?

He had to stop her. He would go to the hardware store and buy a padlock. He watched her get a trash bag from the kitchen. "Was she going to throw his stuff away?" He raged at her, following her down the hallway, and past the office to the bathroom. "I'm done, " she stated emphatically. She took the full bag out of the basket, stuffed the new bag in, and marched past him and the office, closing its door as she passed by. "I'm done" she said again, this time softer. She tried to smile at him, uncertain about whether she had pushed him too far this time.

Knowing she was done, he finally put on his boots and slammed the door, and the chaos, behind him. In the cold quiet of his truck, he put his head in his hands and let his pulse ease. He thought it was going to be a typical Saturday. He drove slowly toward the dump, and as he was about to break and put on his blinker, when he decided against it. The bags in the back, filled with old broken toys and magazines for recycle, could wait another week before being let go. Better yet, maybe he'd bring them back to the garage. He was sure he could fix the toys and make them like new again and surely he'd find the time to read those magazines before throwing them away. Maybe this Saturday was going to turn out alright after all.


Popular posts from this blog

Me V. Parental Judgement

When you are pregnant, there’s so much to think about when considering the future: what color to paint the nursery, what decorating scheme to select from Pottery Barn, whether to go with disposable or reusable diapers, what to name your little nugget, and even deciding to use a cake or a box of balloons for the gender reveal party. You quickly learn that, if you share any of these decisions with anyone, you are bound to get opinions- lots of them. And, while this isn’t the first time we get solicited or unsolicited advice (where to go to college, what to choose as a major, what profession to pursue, who to date, who to marry, what dress to wear to the wedding, who to invite to the wedding, what type of alcohol to serve at the wedding..) the birth of a child seems like the first time that SO MANY opinions are given. It’s already a time of anxiety and unknowns that the opinions of others can easily feel overwhelming.What, I should have gotten the rocker that swings from side to side ins…

Work Family

Did you know that you spend around 90,360 hours at work during your lifetime? I usually only write about my job in the most vague terms but work is, and always has been, a really important and vital part of my life. A hundred years ago, when I left my first professional job, I remember it felt like somebody died. At the time, Andy, who, shockingly wasn't in touch with my emotions, asked me why I was felt this way. I told him I was so upset because I felt like I was leaving my family. I can still remember, clear as day, when I gave my resignation. I had just taken a ride in the Oscar Meyer wiener hot dog mobile (Yeah I know I had an awesome job) and I felt incredibly sick to my stomach. I went home that night and cried like somebody died. I remember Andy asking me why I was so upset and I wasn’t sure how to articulate it. Looking back now I better understand why I had such a visceral reaction to leaving my employer. I think part of it was because it was my first real job. I think …

Your Feedback Needed: My Business Venture!

I believe that I have an entrepreneurial spirit. Over the course of my adulthood I have come up with a number of exciting entrepreneurial ventures. From a scrapbooking B&B to a website dedicated to things that happen in the bathroom, I put my creative mind to use to come up with some pretty cool business ideas. Unfortunately, Andy, and everyone else in my life with whom I’ve shared these ideas, have told me that, while all of my ideas might be interesting, fascinating, or funny, they would never get off the ground or make any money. Since I’m rather adverse to risk, I respected their opinions and trusted their judgment. Yet, I just can’t help myself from coming up with more entrepreneurial concepts on any given day.  My most recent one likely would not produce any income, like all of my other ideas. However, I feel I need to share it because it truly aligns with my skill sets and strengths. I’m not afraid to be shut down so I’ll go ahead and share my idea with you and see what you…