I woke up Happy! The rain has made my creek sing happy and its roar is a welcome sound.
This Bizarro cartoon just makes me laugh.
I want to thank Kimmi and Eazy Cheezy for being brave enough to invite me as a guest on their blog. They gave me full rein and I made myself behave as best I could...smiling. Eazy has more guests this week, so check it out. Also, I wanted to point you to a blog I found through twitter - Mike's Writing Workshop. Scroll down and watch a utube about Hemingway and writing (not Hemingway talking, but images of The Man). There's more there to see, as well.
Tomorrow is the book give-away. And I have been throwing something back and forth in my pea-head brain, trying to decide if I should do it to you all -- heehee, or something much more simple...I'll wake up tomorrow and decide.
Now, here is the second "installment" of the short story The Fishing Day, of which I began in the post below. It's probably the most "simple" of stories I've written, but it's one of my favorites- I think because of the nature elements or maybe just the simplicity of it. It just is what it is, although it probably is a bit over-sentimental (which is why I won't submit it)...still...
The daughter tugs on her father’s sleeve, or perhaps it is a breeze, so gentle the touch.
He asks, “Yes?”
“Don’t look so sad.”
He closes his eyes, and opens them, a slow blink. In that moment of darkness when his eyes were closed, he was afraid she’d leave again. She is still there. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”
“We still have until dark to fish. It’s plenty of time.”
“I guess so.” The father watches the daughter’s profile as she looks across to the other side. Her eyes are sharper and she sees clearer than he does. He says to her, as he tries to see what she sees, “I just don’t want the day to end. Maybe the sun won’t fall today.” He scrubs his face with his big hand. “Maybe we can stay right here forever. We’ll fish, and then I’ll build a fire so we can cook the fish. We’ll have all the time in the world.”
The daughter jumps to her feet. “Look, Daddy! Your cork’s going under!”
At last, the father’s mouth pulls, tugs, and rearranges into a smile. A tight and unnatural feeling smile, but all the same, he is happy to show his daughter that tentative grin. He jerks back on the pole to set the hook. The daughter giggles when he quickly stands then slips on the soft earth of the bank and falls on his backside. He ignores his pain as he turns to his daughter and says, “It’s a strong one.”
“Hurry and pull it in.” The daughter is laughing now, and the sound of her laughter is musical, little chimes touching in the wind leaving behind their tones even when finally stilled.
“I can’t wait to tell your mother.” But when he says this, his shoulders drop in toward each other and the grin pulls back into its forever frown....
(to be continued)