The Optimist’s Club –or –Spread love like you’ve got a shovel ….. Flash Fiction

I went to an antique car show with my camera and spent a wonderful couple of hours taking pictures and talking to anyone I happened to see. During the course of the morning I was asked to lunch by a twenty three year old and a seventy two year old. I declined the twenty three year old because, well, I have socks older than him, but I took a shine to the seventy two year old and after he sweetened the invite by telling me he'd buy me a slice of pie [and I wasn't even wearing my I heart pie button] I agreed to the date and followed him to a diner about a mile down the road.

We went in for lunch and stayed for dinner.

We talked and laughed for nine hours straight. I had to get up twice to go out and run around the diner because my legs were stiff.

When we walked out to our cars, I reached up and gave Rich a hug. He returned it with a squeeze that pulled me off my feet and popped my back. He said I was the first woman tall enough to hug him properly since his wife died.

Now here's the thing that gets me. Three days later my phone rang and Rich's name came up on the display. He told me he'd call when he got home and settled, so I figured he was home and settled.

I answered it with a smile and a: "Well hello there, darlin', did you make it home ok?"

There was a pause on the other end. It went on long enough that I looked at my phone to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. Just when I was going to hang up and call him back, a man cleared his throat and said, "I'm calling for my dad….."

Turns out Rich made it home, but died in his bed the night he got back. Also turns out he knew he was dying when we were having lunch. As a matter of fact he'd known for a couple of weeks. His son said his dad had always looked on the bright side of things, and thought life was what you made of it. He was calling to ask me for my zip code. Said his dad had left an envelope for me on the nightstand.

People looked at me strange at the post office, but I didn't care. It was either stand there and laugh, or stand there and cry. The envelope had a thank you note in it. Rich said I'd been a balm to his soul. He said a lot of other beautiful things, but the thing that I'll always remember was the ps.

PS: Life is like a good cup of coffee, and I got to enjoy both until the very last drop.

Breathe -----Flash Fiction

Breathe. That was the first word James ever said to me. Just like that. Nothing else. Then he was just a solid wall of comfort sitting beside me while I sobbed.

That was James in a nutshell, loving, giving, open hearted. One day that heart simply stopped. Mid stride on the golf course. He fell hard enough to make a dent in the wet turf.

I buried his ashes in the park near the creek. Just lifted some velvety moss and watered him in.

There's no marker, it's technically an illegal grave. I didn't ask permission.

He walked that path almost every day for forty years, letting it feed his soul. I can't imagine anyone begrudging him lying underneath it now and returning the favor.

The dent where he fell eventually filled itself in. Time marching on.

Time marches to a different drummer for me.

Lament -- flash fiction

I'd seen the red ball before of course. Just yesterday as a matter of fact. Little Brianna was playing with it. Bouncing it on the building whap whap whap. After an hour the sound had gotten on my nerves. Bounce whap bounce whap bounce whap over and over. I had leaned out of my window and spoken sharply to her. She had smiled at me and apologized, sweet child that she was. She then sat on the ball and quietly colored with chalk on the sidewalk instead.
This morning as I rushed off, coffee and car keys in hand, I paused a moment to look at her fanciful drawings of unicorns, rainbows and fluffy clouds with happy faces. I smiled and carefully walked around them to avoid smudging any of the outlines.
Now, at seven in the evening, after a full day of mindless paper pushing, here I stand watching the street cleaner hosing down the pavement. He is hosing the last of Brianna's beautiful happiness from the sidewalk. The water swirls into the gutter to meet and mingle with her red ball as it bounces against the curb.
I can't help feeling that I need to rescue the ball.
The red ball that is bouncing whap whap whap in the gutter sloshing in the water that swirls both with rainbow colored chalk and the bloody leftover bits of the car that killed Brianna.



A link to this week's 79 #fridayflash stories at Mad Utopia