I Lost Them All Friday Round-Up

Daily writing prompt

Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?

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The man next to me in a meeting today complimented my calves. There was conversation that led up to this that had to do with my knee-high boots, whether they were leather, and that there was a stretchy portion to accommodate, you know, healthy calves. “I’ve got big calves,” I said jokingly. “Nice calves,” he said. I include this tidbit here in the Round-Up because no one’s ever commented on my calves before. With or without boots.

There was panic making lunches for Street Angels yesterday. Typically, five loaves of bread make fifty sandwiches. But I erred by buying fat bread, bread that looked substantial and chewy and really great for sandwiches, but only fourteen slices to a loaf instead of twenty, giving me only thirty-five sandwiches. Then, with the clock ticking, I scrambled to find anything that could be made into a sandwich short of making a batch of pancakes – rolls, sliced bread, the Italian bread from Monday. I made it to fifty, but, sadly, I think I could see through the last sandwich, it was sliced that thin. Oh well. Next time.

Even if you’re an arrogant jerk, it must hurt to know people don’t like you. I’m not saying that Donald Trump’s feelings were hurt necessarily, but it couldn’t have been lost on him that his presidential successors practically climbed over pews to avoid shaking hands with him at Jimmy Carter’s funeral yesterday. It was oddly satisfying to me just to see this tiniest scrap of consequence for all Trump’s endless hideousness.

The grief from the lost homes in Los Angeles has to be engulfing the entire city. So many people who have lost everything – I bet they are just bursting into tears on the street. Wait until they are allowed to go back and see the broken glass and charred wood scattered everywhere. We had a house burn down many years ago – a beach house that we were crazy lucky to have and loved to death. When we went back for the first time, I remember finding chards of dishes, white with blue edging, and tiny bits of an embroidered pillowcase. No one died or was hurt in our fire. But there was a lot of grief, nonetheless.

When I was a kid, I had hundreds of marbles that I kept in a canvas bag. I’d empty the bag on to my bed and separate them into their groups, line them up, admire them. There were cats’ eyes, boulders, solids. They were beautiful to look at and to handle. I loved my marbles so much and then I lost them. I don’t know how.

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Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash