Snippets, twenty-five

Here are some short pieces based on things that have happened in my life recently.

Mangoes

I have eight mangoes waiting to ripen. I love mangoes. I happily eat them messily, scraping what I can from the seeds and wiping my lips and cheeks free of the excess juice.

But they have not ripened.

They have gotten a little softer, but they are still firm. I bought them for me to eat, and yet they aren't ready.

Will they be ready on a timeline that works for me? I don't know.

Will I catch them between being ripe and being rotten? I hope so.

For now, I wait.

Painting

I picked out a painting that belonged to my father to hang in my own home. It is the one that makes me think most of him. But I don't know where to hang it. I think I have a spot picked out, but I'll have to move some other artwork. That's not a problem, but somehow I don't have the motivation to make the switch.

Maybe because it seems somewhat final.

Maybe because I fear having the reminder up in my home.

Maybe I'm just tired from work.

But for now, the painting sits against some bookshelves, waiting.

Shark

A big pull on the line.

One of them steps up and reels and reels and reels.

The others have her back, sometimes literally.

Whatever is on the line is sizable.

Finally, they pull up the thrasher.

A shark.

A shark with a hook through its cheek.

As the shark is lifted from the water, some of the fight goes out of it. It resigns itself to being a meal, or, more likely, a simple prize.

But then, the hook is removed.

The line is cut.

And the shark swims free again.

It is not spoken of again.

Trilobites

I have a trilobite ring. I'm commissioned a matching necklace and pair of earrings. I wear the ring almost every day, but I would like to have the full set. I actually can't wait until the set is together.

I also have one from my dad. Now, this one is much larger, but it still feels like part of the set. The trilobite from my dad not only reminds me of him, it feels like part of something I'm interested in.

I think my jewelry set will always make me think of my dad.

Perhaps that' good.

Voiceless

I lost my voice for about a week. Some of this was because I had been to a fabulous convention where I talked and even bawked like a chicken. Some of this was because I had had a cold that had been lingering for some time.

But, regardless of the reasons, I was voiceless.

I felt I had to go into the office because of the pressure of a big upcoming event. This was a poor choice as it meant I was voiceless for longer. But it felt like it couldn't be avoided.

While I was voiceless, I was lonely. It was more difficult to not talk than I had expected.

(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)

Photo by HOTCHICKSING on Unsplash

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