Write about stealing something
It's Wednesday, the day after confession Tuesday. It's no confession that I didn't confess yesterday. Still, I like the list-making, write from the top style of confession Tuesday, so here I go. Oh, with a little help from A Writer's Book of Days. How appropriate that today's prompt is write about stealing something! Not that I have stolen anything.
1. I saw some girls in the Dollar Store trying to shoplift. The items were not important, they were toys, I think, and these girls were teenagers. They brought me back to my own foolish teenage years, doing the same thing in Ames with the mill manager's daughter. My best friend in 9th grade was one of the richest girls in the small mill town I grew up in. Neither of us needed to steal. We just liked the thrill of doing it. Shame on us in our blue eyeshadow and jean jackets. The gold hoop earrings turned our ears green. The thrill of getting away with something set us on fire.
2. I stood at the end of the Dollar Store aisle while my daughter looked at dolls and watched the teenage girls. I let them see me watching them. So foreboding amI with my blond bob and flowered scarf that they ran off. They came back and I was still there, staring. What is with me? Who do i think I am? Sheriff of Dollar Tree?
3. I'm pretty sure if I saw someone committing a real crime, like, say, beating up someone, I would call the police. I really don't like all the 20/20 shows or reality shows about people behaving badly, the premise being, "What would you do?" However, it does pose an interesting question. What would you do if... Great poem prompt!
4. I am studiously avoiding my new book, Non-Verbal Learning Disorder at Home. I read that it is a severe disorder that will affect him the rest of his life. It is a result of damage to white matter. Who damaged his white matter? Was it me? Or is it gray matter? Maybe that's why I don't want my husband to buy me a new Pathfinder that is gray.
5. It could be worse. It could always be worse.
6. When I was lying in the hospital room after I had my son, I saw Jesus. The room was dim. My husband and my mom had just left, the baby was in the nursery, and I was a little afraid to be alone. I looked up and Jesus was standing at the foot of my bed and he made me feel less afraid. Now, I am not a "religious" person. I have never seen Elvis. Although I did see Brian Setzer from the Stray Cats once, playing his bass on a random street corner in La Jolla once. And I did get a stuffed bear from Charlie Daniels at a country fair once. I wish I could see Jesus again, just to ask him for the real story. I feel so lost lately. I'm sure he could help me with that. And I wouldn't have to pay him.
7. It's Easter time, so our church is showing clips of The Passion. I can watch Jesus do miracles, even though lepers are gross. I can not watch the crucifixtion, the whipping, the dragging of the cross on his shoulders, the hanging there. Can't do it. I've never seen that movie, the one everyone saw and everyone debated about. I hate cruelty.
8. Looking out my window, the two green plastic swing seats on the swing set are moving. I wonder who was sitting there?
9. This feels pretty melancholy. Let me liven it up. Let's talk Spongebob. I never thought he was so bad for my kids. Until the other day. I had just put braids in my daughter's hair. Everyone says she looks just like me. When I was two, I had braids. She looked adorable. We were peeling carrots in the kitchen, listening to the Dixie Chicks. "Let's rock this clubhouse!," she yelled. How cute, I thought! Then she spun on her heel, threw a glance over her shoulder, said, "I'll kick your butt tomorrow," and sauntered out of the kitchen. Thank you Spongebob. Anyone seen the Flats the Flounder episode?