As I sit in the car in utter fear and mortification, counting, counting, counting, I wonder: what has led me to this humiliating, horrible experience?
Is it because of some deep-seated hatred for my brother?
No. I shake my head vehemently as I whisper 77, 78, 79… I love my brother. Continue reading
When the older man enters the soda shop, Nev ignores him and continues wiping down the counter. The usual customers are teenagers right after school. But it’s 5:30 now, and Nev just wants to finish up his chores and get home.
“Coca Cola, son,” the man says. He must be over 40, and wears a business hat and fedora, carrying a briefcase. Nev fills the glass and takes it over to the bar stool.
They share some incidentals. The man works in the city and takes the train to work every day. The high schooler relates that his mom works two jobs; his dad hasn’t been around since he was 2, so he pitches in when he can.
“That you I see smoking with the Zoot suiters some days near the train station?” the man asks. Continue reading
“I’m telling you, these are the best doughnuts in town,” my Florida friend claims.
“You know I don’t like doughnuts,” I whine. We haven’t seen each other in several years. Once roomies in college, now decades later Sue lives in FL and I live a thousand miles away. Finally, I find a break from work to visit her for three days. And she wants me to drive with her to a new doughnut shop.
The day is stormy and cool, not what I expect from a Florida winter break. Sue drives slowly and rather erratically in her SUV.
“Um, are driving rules different here?” I ask, putting my foot on the imaginary break as she pulls a hard right into a parking lot. Continue reading
Some of my friends think that I’m psychic.
Of course, that’s ridiculous.
I can’t see into the future.
But I do think of myself as a mind bender, or perhaps a better term is mind stretcher.
We all are.
I just believe in our spirit-given gift more than others.
And that is exactly why I decided to use that gift flying 3,000 miles over the land last week.
Thursday night is pizza night. I begin to salivate when I call ahead and order our margherita pizza. With roasted red peppers. And spinach.
As my guy and I prepare to pick up the almost-ready pizza pie, his voice hitches up a notch as he admits, “I can’t find my wallet.” Continue reading
