spoonful ~~>> 0330 <<~~ part one
I found a spoon near the wheel of the dumpster behind our local Target store. It was a broad-mouthed table spoon of a style I've admired for years whenever I was at Target. Now that I'm on a tight budget, I'm always looking for certain items I might someday afford. I've admired this style of spoon for some time. It is sturdy, handsome, and reasonably priced, important particulars if ever acquired as full place settings with forks and knives.
Even before leaving my someday-to-be ex-wife, I yearned for a complement of fresh eating utensils, including spoons of this type, accented with baby blue plastic stems, though I would be as easily pleased owning a full set of red-stemmed tableware in this same style I'd found. Sadly, the spoon I ran across was black-stemmed, but then I decided black stem would suit my needs just for now. I could always imagine it as baby blue or red-stemmed. So began my assemblage of personal silverware, then and there, with the spoon I'd found near Target's trash bin.
In those few moments, I imagined drawers filling in a fantasy future kitchen with spoons, forks, knives, cutlery of all sorts, types, and kinds. Service enough for all my family and friends, close and extended, enough for parties and banquets with people I have yet to know. It was a fantastic culinary dream of affluence and future success. Yet for now, this single black plastic handled tablespoon, nearly lost forever with Target's trash, would be my new beginning, my fresh start, and my destiny as a new man. It would fill all of the current, specific, and practical purposes I had intended for it. It was perfect.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!
289 of 2264 words
WALKING OUT THAT DOOR
spoonful ~~>> 020 <<~~ part two
Most know how I suddenly left my wife in November. How I did so with little or no mention or plan, taking only what fit into the back of my late-model F-150 pick-up from "our house". I barely had time to gather some basics: clothes from the closet, socks and underwear, and other incidentals from dresser drawers, a few kitchen and bathroom items. I even somehow managed to box and grab all of my CDs and a portable player late the night before, without being noticed. That was pretty much all I managed to take from the house, because I began by loading the truck with my work tools and supplies from the garage.
It had been two months of careful preparation and planning before this "life choice" could be attempted. Had things gone wrong, or I'd been caught, her wrath would be incomparable and my life even more a nightmare of abuse than it had surprisingly been since our vows. It was better for me to vanish than to stick it out until she might finally swallow her pride and permit a divorce. I tried to be practical and fair, believing my 'things to grab' list was just and complete. I was finally ready to go!
Or thought I was. Somehow, I had left my truck keys inside of the house. I doubled back and looked all around. All the places they might have dropped. No luck. I desperately backtracked again, searching every place I'd been inside and outside the house. I hunted everywhere for nearly two hours. Wasting time, vanguishing my intent to escape with this and then take two more loads from this house. If I could have dropped this stuff off at a room I had rented, and return for a spare mattress and bedset, my LPs, studio gear, instruments, and recording stuff. The additional loads were to fill a small rented storage space. There was no longer enough to make that storage space worthwhile. While the first and last months' rent were refundable, the one-hundred-dollar deposit was not.
At the end of the day, tired and frustrated, my "things to grab" list desperately incomplete, I was disappointed, but not beaten. With any luck at all, that woman would never see or beat me again. I was done. I was free. I had taken the advice of my family, friends, my shrink, and even our marriage counselor and walked out that door. Our band, The Blue Lemmings, wrote a song which became a minor local hit called "Walking Out That Door."
END PART TWO.
CATCH-UP NOW! SEE PART ONE BELOW
436 of 2264 words (8d)
TO BE CONTINUED WITH PART THREE!! PART ONE REPEATS BELOW
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READ REPRISE>>> spoonful ~~>> 010 <<~~ part one
I found a spoon near the wheel of the dumpster behind our local Target store. It was a broad-mouthed table spoon of a style I've admired for years whenever I was at Target. Now that I'm on a tight budget, I'm always looking for certain items I might someday afford. I've admired this style of spoon for some time. It is sturdy, handsome, and reasonably priced, important particulars if ever acquired as full place settings with forks and knives.
Even before leaving my someday-to-be ex-wife, I yearned for a complement of fresh eating utensils, including spoons of this type, accented with baby blue plastic stems, though I would be as easily pleased owning a full set of red-stemmed tableware in this same style I'd found. Sadly, the spoon I ran across was black-stemmed, but then I decided blacstemsem would suit my needs just for now. I could always imagine it as baby blue or red-stemmed. So began my assemblage of personal silverware, then and there, with the spoon I'd found near Target's trash bin.
In those few moments, I imagined drawers filling in a fantasy future kitchen with spoons, forks, knives, cutlery of all sorts, types, and kinds. Service enough for all my family and friends, close and extended, enough for parties and banquets with people I have yet to know. It was a fantastic culinary dream of affluence and future success. Yet for now, this single black plastic handled tablespoon, nearly lost forever with Target's trash, would be my new beginning, my fresh start, and my destiny as a new man. It would fill all of the current, specific, and practical purposes I had intended for it. It was perfect.
289 of 2264 word,s 5 plus drafts
