Lori stood in front of the mirror for a long time.
Her eyelids looked heavy and she studied the deep crevice between her dirty blonde eyebrows, that could use a plucking. She smoothed the vertical crease with her unmanicured thumb, as if that would diminish it’s appearance, and thought of all the things that had put it there.
After a moment she turned to the side and scanned the line of her body. With a concerned look in her eye, Lori moved her gaze past the slight bulge of her thigh, over the soft hill of her abdomen, and up her relenting breasts. She threw her shoulders back noticing their slouch, and swung her hair away from her clavicle, exposing her long sleek neck that somehow retained it’s youthful appearance.
She remained there, breath held, examining and contemplating herself as though it was the very first time. Had she changed? When did it happen, and how hadn’t she noticed?
She felt like a shooting star, unable to impede it’s own trajectory. Confronting it’s own fade.
After letting out a deep sigh, Lori slapped the bathroom light off and moved toward the kitchen. Where a heavy set man waited, reading the Sunday paper. As she approached she noticed on his head two fleshy spots above each temple. The thin sprouts of hair surrounding these two exposed areas were peppered with gray.
Resting on the table were two giant hands framing the newspaper. The left adorned with a gold band embedded in the pillow of his finger.
The smell of coffee engulfed the room as Lori slid out the wooden chair beside him.
The kind faced man then looked up from the article at her, and with love glowing beneath his drooping eyelids gently said, “Good morning beautiful”.
Lori inched closer until she felt the warm air surrounding him, and smiled as she buttered his toast.
{ 4 comments }
You have quite an inate ability to tell a story, Miss C., whether it’s in prose or poetry or lyrics. I enjoyed your blog…as usual. Thanks for sharing your writing with us. It’s also a nice way of wishing a friend well…assuming Lori really exists.
Your blog makes me think of a writing competition in the Washington Post (or at least I think it was the WaPo) that recently ended. They had a small image/painting of this woman in bed rolled over with her back to the viewer as if she had just answered the phone in the middle of the night or something. Writers were invited to submit a strory based on that image. Some time in the near future the paper will publish the best stories. One of these days you should take a crack at a competition like that. I bet you could come up with a very interesting story based soley on an image.
Anyhoo, keep on rocking and writing, girl. Poetry is good too. Even though I don’t know beans about bongs, I enjoyed the latest poem. A person’s got to put a few miles on their odometer to be interesting IMHO…and have a soul. Let the kids wash out their own damn bongs.;)
metroland. december. troy. excellent. it’s about time!
http://www.revolutionhall.com/
index.php?page=calendar&month=10&ID=594
When I read the title, I thought it was going to be another endorsement of Lori McKenna, a folk singer from my home town. I knew here as Lori Gerow when she was one of my older sister’s friends in high school. Although her music is pretty different from AR, I find it complementary.
I couldn’t help but think that I was at that stage of life, or getting there. I still think of myself as a kid, but at 36 I guess I’ve passed beyond that. But now I am a Dad. I don’t think your really grow up until you have kids.
While I don’t have children, I can tell you that you definitely know you’re not a kid anymore when you hit the age of 50. It’s a real shocker…the number…at first. But then it’s fine.
Being old enough to know who you are — and being content with it — is a good thing IMHO. Life doesn’t have to constantly be a three ring circus of entertainment and running around — like folks often crave when they’re younger. Simplicity is good. Maybe “Lori” is realizing that.
Good vignette, Cassidy.
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