In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.
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http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/81088826141/im-glad-to-see-it-wasnt-my-genes-that-were-the-bad
“I’m glad to see it wasn’t my
genes that were the bad ones,” he said. His legs were stretched out and crossed
at the ankles and he held a cold beer in his hand.
She glanced where he was looking and
saw their child. He was almost two years old and had a bucket on his head. He
was spinning in circles until he fell over on the grass. She could hear him
laughing with delight from inside the bucket.
“How do you know you didn't do exactly
the same thing when you were a baby?” She placed the large bowl of salad on the
outdoor table.
“I would never do anything quite
so silly.”
“Right.”
As she turned to walk back inside, he
grabbed her and hauled her onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and
kissed him.
“I will just ask her, you know?” His
parents were joining them for a late lunch.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” She stroked the back of his
neck leaning in to whisper in his ear. “She likes me... she will tell me all of
your, no doubt completely adorable baby stories. All the gossip.”
“I’m sure there isn’t any.”
They watched as their son stood,
staggered a little to the side with dizziness and then started spinning in
place again. His arms held out at his sides.
“See,” he said, “that kid is nuts.”
He passed her his beer bottle.
“No thanks,” she said. “Not for me.”
He gave her an odd look. “Is there
something you should be telling me?” he asked in a very quiet voice. It wasn’t
like her to refuse a beer.
She smiled as if she had a secret.
“Seriously?” he asked her.
“You wanna see how the next gene
experiment turns out?”
“Do I?” He hugged her almost hard
enough to hurt and then apologised.
She teased him, “It won’t hurt him. You
know that.”
“You sure it’s a him? We already have
one.”
“Awww... but look at him. He’s so
cute.”
The he in question was now trying to
balance upside down with his head still inside the bucket and his shoulders
balanced on the rim.
He fell over backwards and then stood
and looked their way. He held his arms out and yelled, “Ta dah!” as if he had
just performed a miraculous feat of magic.
“Yay,” they cheered and applauded.
He bowed
to his parents and then started to run towards them on his chubby legs.
“I’ll be happy no matter what sex it
is,” he said.
“Healthy and whole that is all I want.”
They scooped him up and made room for
him on their laps.
“Do well tell grandma?” he checked.
“Not yet. Twelve weeks.” She brushed
her son’s hair away from his forehead.
“What’s the matter?”
“This is going to sound crazy...”
“But...” he prompted.
“I love this little guy so much; how
will there be room for another one?”
“You worry about the oddest things. Of
course, there will be room.” He touched her face with his hand. “The heart
expands, you know.”
“It does?”
“Infinitely.” He grinned at her. “You
love me, don’t you?”
“Yeah... yeah, I do.”
“Love!” the little boy cried.
“Yes, baby, we love you.”
Tyres crunched on the drive.
“They’re here,” she said. “You had
better heat up the grill.”
“Give me a kiss first. Pay the toll
before I let you go.”
“Kiss?” the little boy asked.
They each kissed a cheek, then set him
down on his feet. He ran off to get his bucket. His father stood, picked up kid
and the bucket, when he ran back. “Let’s go say Hi to grandma.”
“Hey,” she called. “I never got my
kiss.”
Turning back, he kissed her thoroughly
until his son hit him with the bucket.
“Ow... can we lose the damn bucket?”
~~~~
© AM Gray 2014
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