mikeishappy
POW!!! BAM!!! WOW!!! Oooooh... Ahhhhhh... All the bugs looking up at the show.
Sitting and watching Davey & Goliath behind a stack of cinnamon toast – eight, ten high – every Sunday morning. Day-old white bread and much too much margarine. It was the seventies, we were lower middle class, and I apologize to the fifty-something, triple-bypass me.
Pull the old sweater from the bottom of the closet. Pull them off, one by one. I think that's what they're called. I recall my mother saying something like that. Decades before we said goodbye for the last time. She looked so small. I could've put her in my pocket.
Every morning, there's one stuck in my head. And it stays with me all day. Over and over and over. I can't shake it. Until the following morning. Tuesday was Afternoon Delight. Wednesday, Rocketman. This morning, it's Seasons in the Sun. Which as it turns out is lovely background music for loading a shotgun.
She woke to snow again. She always does. Every morning. Every day. So once again she'd get up and go for a walk. Once around the house then back inside. You can only go so far. Until the shake shake shake again.