Vacation time, but money is short. Set the lawn chair in kid’s sandbox, grab sunglasses and a beer. Ignore wife-kids-phone. I’m in Tahiti.
The cigarette burn scars on his arm screamed “I hate you, Dad!” The tears on his cheeks as he touched the casket offered a rebuttal.
The grown-ups slow-dance as I watch from under a table. Mom’s glass drops with a crash and I awaken old, wondering where I am.
When I got the bad news about Santa, I knelt, prayed to God: “All-knowing, all-powerful, are You there?” Silence. Got off my knees forever.
The mirror on the wall screamed, “Not you, no more.” She sadly decided no more Botox for her. She asked Grumpy to cancel her appointment.
It was like an escaping prisoner. Some said heat, others said chemicals. But she alone knew that this growth of hair could not be tamed.