Today, in my creative writing class, we had a free-write exercise in which we had to write a 78 word story. The exercise was inspire by a contest Esquire magazine did two years ago to celebrate their 78th birthday. This is what I have to show for it.
For Schulum
He was a microwave man. He loved his wife's cooking, nuked after midnight and a long day. He had become accustomed to eating alone.
In the summer, his daughter came home and worked just as long as he did. They often shared a midnight snack. "You know how you live to be a hundred?" he said. "You never run for a train."
"Yes, but you don't get anywhere standing on a platform."
That September was brisker than usual.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Happy Birthday to Me
I'd rather not share the reason why I am awake at seven a.m. on my twentieth birthday. If there's anything I've learned over the past two decades, it is that we need a little mystery in our lives. That being said, let me reflect on this past score of years and begin my new one with a short story. Warning: this story is rather tragic so if you are predisposed to be tears, have your tissues at the ready.
Once upon a time there was a little girl who really liked the smell of rubber. No one, including herself, quite knew why, but the scent of such elastic entities tingled her senses. This little lady (who was not actually a princess but knew that if, given the chance, she would have been just darling at it) began a collection of small rubber animals which, although of various colors, were called "blue noses." She came up with an ingenious way to enjoy her blue noses, holding one under her actual nose while her thumb rested conveniently in her mouth. Soon enough, she began to believe that her face had been designed exclusively for the indulgence of blue noses, and who's to say that it wasn't?
At Christmas time of her third year, she wanted only one thing. To this day, her favorite Christmas present remains a veritable rarity. The gift in question was a Water Baby-- a baby doll made completely of rubber which one filled and refilled with water periodically. To most little girls, the appeal of such a toy was that it made the doll feel like a real baby. To me, the doll was a giant blue nose. You see, the little girl, having a propensity to carrying blue noses with her wherever she went, thereby had a tendency to leave a trail of blue noses behind her. She reasoned, in her toddler mind, that so big a blue nose would be impossible to lose.
On Christmas Eve, she was in a wrestling match with her winter coat and the closet which held it hostage when an unwrapped box fell down. She knew it upon sight. It was a perfect pastel colored box with a convenient cut out part covered in plastic. Through this plastic, she saw, for the first time, the face of perfection. A small button nose rested over sweet pink lips, only to be looked over by sparkling pink and purple eyes, all of which was blanketed by painted on golden swirls. It was love at first sight.
Of course, because their meeting was premature, the little girl put the doll back into her hiding place. That night she pretended to sleep, tossing and turning in anticipation of their official introduction. In the morning, she squealed with delight and feigned surprise at the newest addition to her family, Abigail.
From that day forward, smelling Abigail became her favorite recreational activity. Over time, her tan rubber skin began to shine, the blondness of her hair began to fade, and she lost a couple of fingers. Still, the little girl's love for her endured. Years passed, other presents came and went (including a second water baby that ended up being neglected and eventually went through an identity crisis and sex change), but Abigail was always by her side.
They remained this way for the next sixteen years. Not too much had changed in that space of time. The little girl had gained a younger sister, found her life's calling, fallen in love, but everything pretty much remained the same. Although she no longer sucked her thumb (and had already gone through an intense braces stage because of it), she did, indeed, still love her water baby and slept with her every night. It was after one such night that tragedy struck.
She was on a family vacation in San Diego. It was a two-week vacation, far too long to even think about being separated from her child. The first night, they fell asleep in each other's arms, like they always did. In the morning, the family packed up all of their things to go to a different hotel. Over the past nineteen years, she had gotten to so used to taking Abigail with her everywhere she went, it was second nature to put her safely in her suitcase. Yet, that night when she was unpacking it, she could not find the small, familiar rubber body. She searched the entire suitcase, as well as the rest of her family's, but Abigail was nowhere to be found. The realization was deadening. The entire family was sympathetic and involved in the search. Her father called the hotel four different times to try to see if she had been discovered but to no avail. The little girl left her doll, and part of her heart, in San Diego.
The next few months were difficult. Frequently, she went to bed ready to snuggle with her baby doll, only to remember the unfortunate, recent events. One time, there was even a split second when the not so little girl thought she felt Abigail while she was asleep, but it was just a knickknack. In the morning of her twentieth birthday, the not so little girl had a dream. She found Abigail hiding in a corner of her sister's room, and she could not have been happier...until she woke up. And as happy as she was on her birthday morning, she couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
So this is what I'm thinking about on the morning of my twentieth birthday. Not some party, some presents, or even some guy, but my favorite baby doll.
Once upon a time there was a little girl who really liked the smell of rubber. No one, including herself, quite knew why, but the scent of such elastic entities tingled her senses. This little lady (who was not actually a princess but knew that if, given the chance, she would have been just darling at it) began a collection of small rubber animals which, although of various colors, were called "blue noses." She came up with an ingenious way to enjoy her blue noses, holding one under her actual nose while her thumb rested conveniently in her mouth. Soon enough, she began to believe that her face had been designed exclusively for the indulgence of blue noses, and who's to say that it wasn't?
At Christmas time of her third year, she wanted only one thing. To this day, her favorite Christmas present remains a veritable rarity. The gift in question was a Water Baby-- a baby doll made completely of rubber which one filled and refilled with water periodically. To most little girls, the appeal of such a toy was that it made the doll feel like a real baby. To me, the doll was a giant blue nose. You see, the little girl, having a propensity to carrying blue noses with her wherever she went, thereby had a tendency to leave a trail of blue noses behind her. She reasoned, in her toddler mind, that so big a blue nose would be impossible to lose.
On Christmas Eve, she was in a wrestling match with her winter coat and the closet which held it hostage when an unwrapped box fell down. She knew it upon sight. It was a perfect pastel colored box with a convenient cut out part covered in plastic. Through this plastic, she saw, for the first time, the face of perfection. A small button nose rested over sweet pink lips, only to be looked over by sparkling pink and purple eyes, all of which was blanketed by painted on golden swirls. It was love at first sight.
Of course, because their meeting was premature, the little girl put the doll back into her hiding place. That night she pretended to sleep, tossing and turning in anticipation of their official introduction. In the morning, she squealed with delight and feigned surprise at the newest addition to her family, Abigail.
From that day forward, smelling Abigail became her favorite recreational activity. Over time, her tan rubber skin began to shine, the blondness of her hair began to fade, and she lost a couple of fingers. Still, the little girl's love for her endured. Years passed, other presents came and went (including a second water baby that ended up being neglected and eventually went through an identity crisis and sex change), but Abigail was always by her side.
They remained this way for the next sixteen years. Not too much had changed in that space of time. The little girl had gained a younger sister, found her life's calling, fallen in love, but everything pretty much remained the same. Although she no longer sucked her thumb (and had already gone through an intense braces stage because of it), she did, indeed, still love her water baby and slept with her every night. It was after one such night that tragedy struck.
She was on a family vacation in San Diego. It was a two-week vacation, far too long to even think about being separated from her child. The first night, they fell asleep in each other's arms, like they always did. In the morning, the family packed up all of their things to go to a different hotel. Over the past nineteen years, she had gotten to so used to taking Abigail with her everywhere she went, it was second nature to put her safely in her suitcase. Yet, that night when she was unpacking it, she could not find the small, familiar rubber body. She searched the entire suitcase, as well as the rest of her family's, but Abigail was nowhere to be found. The realization was deadening. The entire family was sympathetic and involved in the search. Her father called the hotel four different times to try to see if she had been discovered but to no avail. The little girl left her doll, and part of her heart, in San Diego.
The next few months were difficult. Frequently, she went to bed ready to snuggle with her baby doll, only to remember the unfortunate, recent events. One time, there was even a split second when the not so little girl thought she felt Abigail while she was asleep, but it was just a knickknack. In the morning of her twentieth birthday, the not so little girl had a dream. She found Abigail hiding in a corner of her sister's room, and she could not have been happier...until she woke up. And as happy as she was on her birthday morning, she couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
So this is what I'm thinking about on the morning of my twentieth birthday. Not some party, some presents, or even some guy, but my favorite baby doll.
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