...a smile suits

every style;

It wears well

with suede,

Blue or some

other hue...

half lit or bared

...a smile makes

every hair into

the trend-y

up do and

It's very truth

looks good in

unpolished

shoes and

slippers too

...a smile from

the inside

defies whatever

attributes

might've been

pasted on...

or otherwise

be fallen,

wayside

...a smile that's

genuine, is

a little nip

of Happiness

for the rest

of us...

passin' bye.

02.16.23

Remind Someone challenge @RosemarieThorn

I wonder what she dreams about, if she seizes up like I do in bed at 3AM, or if she has truly forgotten what it means to love someone else. I dream about birth and death, they say I'm a black and white thinker and my dreams can attest. But I never dream about her. Maybe we earn our place in someone's subconscious, sleep as a means to see who truly matters. The folds of my brain accommodate for her lack of love like a whisk mixing a cake together with the forgotten, crucial, ingredient of trust.

There is no reminding her of what it means to enjoy life. I see a skeleton of what could be, the x-ray showing something too broken to fix. I die for her in real life, the way I can't when I'm asleep in bed at night. I hope for her to find happiness and joy, but I only see how her dreams have gone unfulfilled, shattered on the floor. I want to remind her of her humanity, how it glitters in the light. But when is it too late to tell someone something, to say: be honest with yourself? It's hard to say what she dreams of. At 3AM, we're all alone, I hope she finds the courage to make her life her own.

I’m not sure why we were out late during a snow storm but I remember it was dark and I was bundled up in my favorite coat, a brown furry coat with Nordic floral designs on the sleeves and around the hood. Before getting in the car, I remember my mother tying the hood tight under my chin. Chin ties never stayed where they were supposed to in the 70’s. They were basically a long shoe lace and they were always sliding up over the chin. I was five and my brother, Todd was 4. We sat in the back of our Ford Pinto bundled up together without seat belts on and my mom mumbled to herself as she turned on the radio. At 5 years old you don’t really question where you are going at night in the middle of a snow storm but now I do question it. Looking back now, I’m sure we were out looking for my dad in strip club parking lots.

As the car traversed along the snow packed streets of town, I bounced in the back seat chewing on my hood ties and thinking about Captain Kangaroo. “Todd, how many ping pong balls do you think Captain Kangaroo has?”, I asked. “A lot Worwi! (this is how pronounced Lori), he said. “I like it when they fall on his head.”, I giggled. Todd giggled too as his blond curls bounced out of his stocking cap as my mom came to a sudden stop. We both flew into the seats in front of us and abruptly bounced back to where we were sitting.

“Oh children, there’s a mom with two kids walking in this storm, I’m going to turn around and see if they need help.” My mom turned around and we pressed our noses to the cold window. Todd huffed and used his finger to draw a rainbow in the condensation. I gazed out looking for the wanderers. Sure enough there was a mother in a long navy coat, holding hands with two children about the same age as my brother and me. One was wearing red gloves, one wasn’t wearing any. The car stopped and my mother got out. In mere minutes, we had them in the car. The moms talked but I just stared at the kids. I like the girls red mittens but they wouldn’t have matched my coat. My mittens were white and new and I made sure that these snow walking kids could see my pristine mittens. The girl starred back at me. She wasn’t looking at my mittens. She was looking at my mouth as I chewed my hood ties. The knot perfectly fit in the space that used to hold a front tooth. I flicked it with my tongue. The boy without mittens touched my coat. I liked that he wanted to touch it. Todd just sat huffing on the window and drawing rainbows over and over.

The car stopped and we all got out at the gas station. Now it was tradition that every time we went to the gas station, Todd and I got mini Chicklette gum. The moms were using the gas station’s phone and doing grown-up things. The snow walker kids stayed next to their mother and Todd and I picked out our Chicklettes. The snow walkers all got back into our car and we drove them to a house. I ate my Chicklettes and continued starring at the girl with red mittens. She stopped starring at my mouth and when she looked at me for the first time in the eyes, I remember feeling something different about how she looked at me. I didn’t know what to make of it. After our occupants were safely delivered to some house a few minutes away, my mom turned to Todd and I and said, “We were angels tonight for that family. They don’t have a car like we do. Did you see their clothes? That poor boy didn’t even have mittens on and they had been walking for miles. I’m so proud of you for sharing your Chicklettes with those children. “ I didn’t say a word….I hadn’t offered that red mitten girl even one of my Chicklettes.

We said a prayer for that family after they left. I’ve never forgotten them. From that day on I became a person that shares. Remember to always share your Chicklettes.

The tug on the end of the filament, moments after fresh bait had been secured to your hook. An exhilarating fight between boys versus nature and the appreciation of the need for both to co-exist.

The late nights munching on, popcorn, cheeseburgers, and fresh cut fries, while perched on the hood of your parent’s ford escort; Your faces illuminated by the drive-inn screen showing the movie that you now call “Classics” of your childhood.

The nights of the confusing glow from the sun burning through your eyelids until you finally fall asleep, because daylight savings was in effect, and 9pm was time to go to bed on a school night.

The first lick of a soft serve crèemee under a scorching sun, mid-day; Chocolate, with chocolate sprinkles, the only way to have it, and no one could tell you otherwise.

The careless adventures of riding bikes all over town or walking the trails in the Vermont backwoods with your best friend; Building forts, burning wood, and a late curfew that kept us away from home a few more hours, and outside to get in more trouble.

Collecting loose change, you found on the ground until you had enough to buy a tootsie pop at the local candy store, and hoping it was the one with a star on it so you could redeem a free one.

The endless weekends filled with video games and soda stains. Crushing on girls in magazines and recording over songs on blank cassette tapes.

The good times. Perhaps they were among some of the only good times, before I watched my best friend, James, ride away in the backseat with his hand pressed on the window like you would see in the movies. My presence in the middle of the street was left empty and friendless. I stood there until the car left my view, and a little longer to confirm if it was a joke.

...It was not.

Five years ago you called off our engagement and left me alone with a barely furnished apartment, a dog and massive debt, and told me that God had sent you a vision and said we couldn't date anymore. I told you that in five years time, you'd be fat, single, and childless. You told me otherwise.

Yesterday I finally got to rub it in your wrinkly, fat fucking face, with your stretch fit jeans that hold your sagging belly flab in, you aged out, femcel wall hitter!

Yeah, I'm bitter... but guess what... I'm right, and that feels good.

OH! This is pertinent because I'm "reminding" her, which "remind" was the challenge, so it's not ALL bitterness.