February 14, 2012

• Life’s like an Hourglass

  2.18 short story with song lyric title: bluemooncat something or another incredibly enormous writing adventure.

  Life’s Like an Hourglass Glued to the Table

  Anne’s alarm clock sprung into action on Monday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She trudged into the kitchen, mixed batter for pancakes, and started making bologna sandwiches for the kids’ lunchboxes.  Her morning cup of coffee, barely sugared mildly milked, steamed on the counter as she flipped pancakes.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.  A smile plastered on her face, Anne buttered, syruped and cut pancake bits for children well beyond needing such care.  They ate and left the table without one word to their mother.   Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

  Anne waved as children, chatting amiably with neighbors and friends, entered the bus. 

  Anne’s alarm clock greeted Tuesday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She sauntered into the kitchen, whipped eggs into a froth, and started making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the kids’ lunchboxes.  Her morning cup of coffee steamed on the counter as she stirred the eggs.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.   Anne dished out eggs, buttered and jammed toast.  The children ate and left the table.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

  Anne waved to her children.

  Anne’s alarm clock welcomed Wednesday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She walked into the kitchen,  prepared batter for French toast and started making turkey and cheese sandwiches for the kids’ lunchboxes.  Her morning cup of coffee steamed on the counter as she dipped bread into the batter.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.  Anne served and sliced French toast and dribbled syrup.  The children ate and left the table.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

  Anne stared at her children.

  Anne’s alarm clock tweeted Thursday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She trudged into the kitchen, made chocolate chip pancake batter and started filling thermoses with soup.   Her morning cup of coffee steamed on the counter as she stirred in the chocolate bits.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.  Anne served, cut and dripped syrup on pancakes.  .  The children ate and left the table.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

  Anne stood at the door.

  Friday, Anne was up before her alarm.  She put cereal and bowls and milk on the table.  She sat down in the kitchen to enjoy a steaming cup of coffee.  The children chattered as they served themselves cereal.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunch money to each child as they walked to the bus.

  Anne grabbed her keys and didn’t look back.

  • 10:23 pm
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