Two Second Thrill

“Two-second Thrill”
 By
Bob Conder

 It had been a perfect Christmas day; 4” of fresh snow covered the ground, and the stillness of the air was comforting and peaceful. At eight years old, there was still some magic in the season.
 

After the usual clutter of opening and sharing, I had bathed and dressed, waiting for the big dinner, complete with turkey homemade rolls and aunts who kissed you on the forehead. They all came every year, nine aunts, their spouses and cousins, and younger kids who just wanted to go home and sleep or play with their new toys.

 

Santa always knew when I needed shoes, and this year he had come through again. Black dress shoes, not loafers or even wing-tips, these were Sunday's best shoes for church and other special occasions. I was proud of their shine and put them on that morning.

 Outside, I walked around the yard and examined the now melting icicles, which at times could be three feet long, hanging from the back of our home. I wandered over to the lot next to us, it had been a tomato farm, but in the spring, a new church was going up there. A wooden building had already been delivered and placed at the far end, a combination office and tool shed from what I could tell.

As I climb on top of the shed, I looked forward to the view of the neighborhood; you could see two or three streets away. Further then, I usually needed to go. I stood for a moment on the crest and observed my kingdom. Then I noticed the snow on the north slope. Fresh snow slightly melting and stark white in contrast to the dull green shingles.

 

 stepped with the new shoes into the snow and felt like I was shot out of a cannon as I flew forward. Somehow my feet were parallel, and my waving arms kept me upright. The roof ended before I could react, and then I was really flying. Arms still waving, I hit with a soft thump. All the tumbleweeds had gathered against the building and softened by the snow, held me safe. Some snow had fallen down my collar, but I didn’t notice.
 

When I got home, the aunts were just starting to arrive, and I smiled as they kissed me, glad to be able to walk after my two-second thrill.

Bobbled Necklace

Bobbled Necklace
By
Bob Conder

Jewels stood silent and still, staring at the dresser with the bobbled necklace Nana would wear. The moments, old memories now that will never be replaced with anything new, floated through her mind. The sun was setting, casting long shadows that crawled across the room were almost gone before she even moved.

No one ever mentioned Nana as Jewels was growing up. It had been a happy childhood, she thought, until the divorce. One day her Father slammed the door behind him as he left, then just drove off, that was the last image she would ever have of him. The next day her mother packed a few things, loaded the car with snacks and Jamison, her four year old brother, and they drove across the country.

The sun was low in the sky when they arrived. Nana had been standing in the doorway as they drove up. A woman who’s heart was almost bigger than her smile greeted them.

The bills were big and Momma had worked two or more jobs as Jewels and Jamison grew up. Nana was the sitter, taxi driver, homework helper, and confident in matters of young love. She filled Jewels life with meaning and gave her goals, helped and encouraged her. Nana even stood and cheered as Jewels graduated from every school grade.

The nursing program was tough, but long hours of studying mixed with a Spartan life style and Jewels had made it. Only one research project left to complete. She had been in the lab for what seemed days when she got the call.

Candles had been lit, prayers and songs sung, complimentary comments from unknown friends, and the passing was over. The only physical thing left of Nana was the bobbled necklace now laying out on the dresser waiting to be worn, waiting to make a statement, waiting to share a good time.

 “It’s not fair.” Jewels whispered as a tear landed on the pearls.