As we eat our turkey
And savor pumpkin pie
Let us all remember
Those who passed on by
Revolutionary patriots
With the heart to take a stand
To break away from tyranny
And forge a better land
Brothers fighting brothers
Many to their graves
That we would stay united
and liberate the slaves
They fought the evil empires
In two epic global wars
Some mens hopeful futures
Died on distant shores
So many did their duty
In Asia some did fall
Now they are but a memory
A name upon a wall
So this year I ask you
As we enjoy our feast
Give thanks to our troops
Who patrol the middle east
The ones who are still fighting
And others who have died
Their mothers and fathers
And all the tears they've cried.
Be thankful for what you have
Even if it's not a lot
Many people perished
To give you what you've got!
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Rooms and worlds apart
I know, I know! I said that I was leaving and would only post when I had an idea. As is my policy of complete honesty, I combined an idea that I had with an offer that I received. In a sense, I am getting paid for this story. Judge me not, peeps! LOL!!!
Jennifer faced the window as her husband, Vincent, continued to snore. The window was being pummeled with raindrops and the morning sun seemed late to appear due to the dark storm clouds. She proceeded to roll out of bed and stretch her tired body. She looked over at Vincent.
He was looking so old these days. His once full head of dark hair had been replaced by a thin layer of gray, and his athletic body was now hidden by a layer of flab. She wondered when they had both gotten so old.
Jennifer made her way to the bathroom. She looked around the large room and for the first time took notice of how long they had lived in their home. The bathroom furniture seemed to be almost antique looking, even though she had bought it when it was new. She looked back at Vincent one more time and then shut the door. She wanted change in her life but had no idea where to start. She was just not happy anymore. Jennifer ran the bath water and took a long, hot shower.
After she finished drying off, she opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom. Her jaw dropped and she grabbed the door frame to stabilize herself. The room was not the same room that she had slept in the night before. All of the furniture was brand new and the home itself had that new house smell. She glanced at the bed and looked at Vincent. It was her husband, but not the one that she had left a few minutes earlier. It was the young and fit version of him. Then she realized that while the furniture was new, it was the same furniture that she had purchased over twenty years ago. She looked back into the bathroom and gazed at herself in the mirror. She was still old. The gray hair and wrinkles were as prominent as they had been earlier that morning. She felt like she must be in a dream. She heard a groan and then Vincent spoke.
"Honey, why are you up already?" he asked.
She turned on the light, revealing her sixty year old face to her twenty something looking husband, expecting that he would recoil in horror.
"Baby, you're so beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I want to make love to you right now."
"Vincent, is this a dream? Don't you see that I'm an old woman?"
"Jenny, honey, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting all crazy? I'm older than you are."
Jennifer was confused. It had to be a dream. There was no way that he could look at her and not see that she was an old woman. She climbed back under the covers and began to mutter.
"Wake up, wake up, please wake up," she said over and over.
Vincent got up, shifting his underwear to adjust for his erection. He figured that her bizarre behavior meant that there would be no love making that morning. He shuffled into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He was young and fit, rippling with defined muscles and a six pack abdomen. He wondered if he would ever be out of shape. He peed, washed his hands and headed back into the bedroom.
When he opened the door, something seemed different. The house smelled musty and the furniture in the room appeared to be old and worn out. He looked over at Jennifer and his heart almost stopped. Why was there an old woman in his bed?
She rolled over, exposing her full face, the deep crows feet etched in the corner of her eyes.
"Honey, come back to bed and make love to me," she said.
It was Jennifer's voice, but it was not the woman who he had left a few minutes earlier.
He hoped that it was all a dream.
Jennifer faced the window as her husband, Vincent, continued to snore. The window was being pummeled with raindrops and the morning sun seemed late to appear due to the dark storm clouds. She proceeded to roll out of bed and stretch her tired body. She looked over at Vincent.
He was looking so old these days. His once full head of dark hair had been replaced by a thin layer of gray, and his athletic body was now hidden by a layer of flab. She wondered when they had both gotten so old.
Jennifer made her way to the bathroom. She looked around the large room and for the first time took notice of how long they had lived in their home. The bathroom furniture seemed to be almost antique looking, even though she had bought it when it was new. She looked back at Vincent one more time and then shut the door. She wanted change in her life but had no idea where to start. She was just not happy anymore. Jennifer ran the bath water and took a long, hot shower.
After she finished drying off, she opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom. Her jaw dropped and she grabbed the door frame to stabilize herself. The room was not the same room that she had slept in the night before. All of the furniture was brand new and the home itself had that new house smell. She glanced at the bed and looked at Vincent. It was her husband, but not the one that she had left a few minutes earlier. It was the young and fit version of him. Then she realized that while the furniture was new, it was the same furniture that she had purchased over twenty years ago. She looked back into the bathroom and gazed at herself in the mirror. She was still old. The gray hair and wrinkles were as prominent as they had been earlier that morning. She felt like she must be in a dream. She heard a groan and then Vincent spoke.
"Honey, why are you up already?" he asked.
She turned on the light, revealing her sixty year old face to her twenty something looking husband, expecting that he would recoil in horror.
"Baby, you're so beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I want to make love to you right now."
"Vincent, is this a dream? Don't you see that I'm an old woman?"
"Jenny, honey, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting all crazy? I'm older than you are."
Jennifer was confused. It had to be a dream. There was no way that he could look at her and not see that she was an old woman. She climbed back under the covers and began to mutter.
"Wake up, wake up, please wake up," she said over and over.
Vincent got up, shifting his underwear to adjust for his erection. He figured that her bizarre behavior meant that there would be no love making that morning. He shuffled into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He was young and fit, rippling with defined muscles and a six pack abdomen. He wondered if he would ever be out of shape. He peed, washed his hands and headed back into the bedroom.
When he opened the door, something seemed different. The house smelled musty and the furniture in the room appeared to be old and worn out. He looked over at Jennifer and his heart almost stopped. Why was there an old woman in his bed?
She rolled over, exposing her full face, the deep crows feet etched in the corner of her eyes.
"Honey, come back to bed and make love to me," she said.
It was Jennifer's voice, but it was not the woman who he had left a few minutes earlier.
He hoped that it was all a dream.
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