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Brain Snap

28 Sunday Feb 2021

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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depression, family, guns, insomnia, suicide

It is a little past ten at night and my body clock is telling me that i really should stop watching crap on TV and go to bed.

I turn off the turn and make my way towards the bathroom ‘Where do you think you are going’ my brain demands. I sigh in frustration because i was hoping that i could just go to bed without being noticed because i honestly can’t remember the last time that i had a good nights sleep ‘ It is still early and i have a lot more thinking to do before i shut down for the night.’

I tell my brain that i had a really rough day at work and that i really need to get some rest because i have to do it all again tomorrow.

All i get in response is a laugh so i know that i am in for another sleepless night.

I set my alarm for 5am and roll over on my right side which is my usual routine, as my breathing slows i hear the crickets outside singing me a lullaby.

I am grateful for their help but i have heard the song before and i know that my brain is about to fill my head with all sorts of useless imformation.

‘Why did you pay $1.50 a litre for petrol today when it was $1.41 just down the road?’

‘You bought a bag of kibble for Fido last when you know that he prefers meaty chunks why?

‘Did you turn the stove off?’

‘I can see light under the bedroom door did you remember to turn off the light in the kitchen?’

I am now 32 years old and i have had trouble sleeping for as long as i remember so i decide to try a different approach tonight.

Instead of ignoring my brain hoping it will get tired of talking to itself i reply to my inner voice in the hope that it will just shut up and go into sleep mode.

‘I know i should have gone to the other petrol station but i really couldn’t be bothered’

‘And he reason why i bought the dry food for Fido was because it was on special and i thought he might like to try something different’

‘I didn’t use the stove tonight so o know it is off and yes i am positive that i turned the kitchen light off now shut the fuck up and go to sleep thank you’

I toss and turn for a while expecting a reply but when none is forthcoming i smile close my eyes and begin to drift off.

‘Did you lock the back door? Because if i remember correctly there was a break in down the road last week’

Sighing i cover my face with a pillow in the hope of silencing the voice but it doesn’t work ‘You really should go and check because you don’t know who could be lurking outside’

Throwing the sheet aside i climb out of bed ‘OK you win i will go and check and hopefully when i come back you will be quiet for the rest of the night;

I rattle the handle and sure enough the back door is locked, i also check the stove while i am up and once i am satisfied that all is well i stumble back to bed.

The time is now 2,23 in the morning and i am still awake ‘Do you want to play a game of I Spy because after all your alarm will go off in a couple of hours so you wont get much sleep anyway’

I spy with my little eye something beginning with B.

My alarm blares so i hit the snooze button in the hope of getting a couple more minutes of sleep but my brain has other ideas ‘Get out of bed you lazy turd, two hours sleep is enough for anybody.

As i said insomnia has always been a big problem for me, I am a worrier , i worry about about any insignificant thing and then i would worry about my constant worrying.

Going to sleep at night is a struggle and somethings i would think about ending it all and going into a permanent sleep but thankfully my brain seemed to sense when when was time to settle down at nights and for a few months i would get a decent amount of sleep every night but than my over thinking and worrying would come back and my brain would again go into overdrive.

Over the years my doctor has prescribed me different types of pills and potions to help me sleep but none have really helped.

Also i have tried yoga meditation and deep breathing exercises to help me relax but again with limited results.

It is now early spring and the last six months my insomnia has grown steadily worse, i average about an hour and half of sleep a night so my days are torture because most of the walk i walk around like a zombie barely able to function and so on the morning of 2nd September i enter a gun store down the end of my block and buy myself a rifle that the guy behind the counter said would stop an elephant in its tracks.

Finally i am taking control of my life even though i am about to end it.

Once home i put the rifle in the hall closet and than like a prisoner on death row on the day of his execution i wonder what to have for my last supper.

I think back to when i was a kid and my favorite back then was leg of lamb with roast pumpkin and mashed potatoes so i go to the grocery store and buy the ingredients for my final meal before i meet my maker.

Two hours later the lamb is cooked to perfection and the vegetables are just how i like them.

I eat slowly at first but i am only delaying the inevitable so i gobble down the rest place the plate in the sink then go to the closet and grab the rifle, my liberator if you will.

Taking a seat i remove my shoes and socks get comfortable then after putting the barrel under chin place my big toe on the trigger and get ready to squeeze.

My brain decides that just this second is the right time to start talking ‘What are you doing Kevin?

I don’t wish to reply but i do any way ‘What does it look like you little fucker, this is all your fault , if only you learnt to keep your mouth shut when i am trying to sleep than none of this would be happening’

My toe gently squeezes ‘You do realise that when you pull the trigger i will be splattered all over the wall behind you?’

‘Yes i am quite aware of that eventuality now just shut the fuck up so i can get down to business’

‘Um i don’t mean to ask a silly question but did you put any bullets in the gun?

My heart stops for a second but i distinctly remember loading the gun so tell my brain to back off ‘Nice try but no cigar’

I toe is getting a cramp but does as ordered and squeezes once again.

blurp blurp blurp plurp

I look over to the coffee table where my mobile is lit up like a christmas tree demanding to be answered ‘Jesus H fucking Christ can’t a man kill himself in peace anymore?

Taking a deep breath i tell myself that five minutes wont make any difference so i put the gun on the carpet and pick up the phone.

The screen tells me that my little sister Irene is the culprit calling but i haven’t talk to her in a long time so i answer ‘Hello sis so how is married life treating you?

She has been married for less than a year and seems to be happy ‘Couldn’t be better Kevin but i am not interrupting anything am i because i hear some tension in your voice’

‘I am fine just a little tired is all’ In case she also has x ray vision i walk over and kick the rifle beneath the couch.

We chat for over an hour about the fun times we had when we were kids and about our parents who are both enjoying retirement down in Tasmania.

Listening to my sisters voice takes all the tension and fatigue out of my system but i now realize that had i gone and killed myself i would of left a lot of grief and heartache behind.

When i say goodbye to my sister i empty the rifle and throw the bullets in the trash then dismantle the gun and put it under my bed for a rainy day.

That night i watch a little TV then go and brush my teeth before going to bed, as i brush my brain pipes up ‘I am sorry for all the crap i put you through and from now on i promise to let you sleep uninterrupted’

I must admit i am skeptical but i happily finish my dental care before toddling off to bed.

At 3am i am woken by my brain ‘I know that i promised not to talk but i am bored so why don’t we play a game or talk about the weather or something’

My brain might have kept on talking but i had already switched off and fallen to sleep.

THE END

Thanks for reading my story, if you have the means could you make a small or large donation so that i can finally achieve my goal of becoming a fulltime writer, thanks again Steven.

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Whole Lot Of Trouble ( 2 )

16 Friday Feb 2018

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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Tags

cats, christmas, christmas tree, family, help, kitten, mice, trouble

In part one I introduced you to a nine year old boy named Billy Faulkner who coming home from school one day came across an abandoned kitten.

He immediately fell in love with that ball of fluff and took it home.

But Billy soon found out that looking after a kitten isn’t easy.

First the kitten was sick all over Billy’s bed sheets so Billy waited until his mother had gone to bed.

Then he took the sheets into the laundry and put them into the washing machine where the kitten bumped a one pound box of soap into the washer.

And in the morning Billy was confronted by an angry mother and a house full of suds.

He couldn’t see his mom but he sure could hear her ‘What have you done this time mister you are grounded for a month,now go back into your room and think about what you have done while I clean up this mess’

The kitten follows Billy oblivious to the trouble that  he has caused and with a meow he knows that there is more trouble to come.

He has only just started.

Part Two

It is the first of December and Billy is helping his mom put up the Christmas tree.

While they erect the tree branch by branch bauble by bauble trouble the kitten watches proceedings from a safe distance.

Once all of the decorations are carefully arranged and about a thousand lights are draped from every branch of the tree.

Billy’s mom plugs in the lights and turns them on.

Well the kitten goes completely ballistic running around the room like a headless chicken until it finally takes off down to the safety of the basement.

Billy and his mom are in stitches as they watch the kitten disappear.

But they soon recover and settle down to watch some TV while stealing glances at the shiny big tree.

A while later trouble builds up the nerve to enter the living room where it sits on the floor next to Billy looking at the alien in the room with a mixture of fear and complete bafflement.

He sits there for over twenty minutes waiting for the right time to spring an attack.

Then he gets up onto his haunches and springs into action.

He lands halfway up the tree where he soon finds out that he has bitten more than he can chew.

Trouble scrambles to the top of the tree and hangs on for grim death.

He wriggles his tail around trying to get a better hold where it becomes tangles around a dozen or more Christmas lights.

Trouble starts to panic and he bites at the cable holding the lights.

Well a shower of sparks fill the room and all the lights go out and Billy and his mom watch in amazement as a little furry comet flies across the room.

A week later after a visit to the vet Trouble is given the all clear and Billy takes the kitten back home.

He looks at the singed and sad kitten’Dont worry Trouble the vet said that your fur will grow back in a month or so’

‘Hey maybe I should have called you Smokey?’ Billy laugh’s until it hurts.

Trouble the kitten doesn’t see the funny side and with as much dignity as he can muster slowly leaves the room.

Trouble quickly recovers from his injuries and once more he is doing what cats do.

That is getting into trouble and hunting for it’s prey.

First he wanders down to his favourite room in the house the basement.

Here he has lots of room to run around plus the room is also full of mice.

And over the next three hours he catches about mice.

Where one by one he carries those rodents up to his masters mothers room.

And with great dexterity he arranges his kill around her pillow.

At 4 06 exactly the whole neighbourhood wakes to an almighty screech.

Is someone being attacked?

Have the little green men from Mars finally attacked?

Billy wakes with fright but soon realises that the sound is coming from his mom’s room so he jumps out of bed and races to the scene of the crime.

God it sounds like ma is giving birth to a baby hippo’

Billy runs into his moms room to find a shit load of mice scattered around the room

And a proud kitten standing in the corner.

‘Billy that cat has got to go it almost give me a heart attack,that cat is nothing but trouble’

But mom he is only showing you how much he likes you’

‘The mice were a present’

Sorry Billy but first thing in the morning that kitten is going to the pound’

‘You can get another pet.how about a goldfish or a hampster or maybe one of those nice pet rocks?’

But mommy I want to keep my kitty,please please one last chance?’

Sorry Billy but my nerves can only take so much”

Billy picks up his kitten and runs back to his room in distress.

He knows all about the pound Trouble will go there and after a while he will get the needle.

Go to sleep and never wake up.

Billy will never let that happen so he paces around his room trying to think of a way to convince his mom to let him keep Trouble.

And soon a cunning plan enters his brain.

He picks up Troubles food and water bowls opens his bedroom door to check that the coast is clear.

Then he creeps down to the basement with Trouble hot on his heels.

He sits on the floor cradling his kitten in his lap ‘OK Trouble you will have to stay down here for a while until mom comes around’

Trouble senses his masters sorrow and meows in sadness and after a few minutes Billy hugs his kitten and tells him to lay low and stay out of trouble

Then he goes  back to his bedroom and opens the window.

In the morning  Billy enters the kitchen where his mom is preparing breakfast.

Mom Trouble escaped last night I think he must of jumped out my window and run off into the fields’

Billy looks all sad and he even manages a tear or two.

His mom gives him a skepical look but soon realises that her son is crying ‘Oh Billy it is for the best,Trouble will be wild and free and who knows maybe he will find his family”

Billy nods and produces a few more crocodile tears.

Over the following days and weeks Billy plays with Trouble when his mom is out shopping or at work.

But that all changed on the night of 2nd February.

It started out as any other day Billy had come home from school he had a snack then went down to the basement to visit Trouble.

A couple of hours later his mom came home from work carrying a huge bucket of KFC.

Billy and his mom sit on the couch with the bucket of chicken between them as they watch the Simpsons on the tube.

Billys mom has had nothing to eat all day and she is swallowing way too fast and soon a bone gets lodged in her throat.

Meanwhile down in the basement Trouble is half asleep waiting for his master to bring him some food.

When the smell of fried chicken hits his nostrils.

Up on the family room Billy is running around not knowing what to do.

His moms face has gone from red to a nasty shade of purple.

The situation is getting deadly serious.

Billy calls 911 on his cell phone hoping that they get here real quick.

Trouble is halfway up the stairs when he hears his masters cries for help.

So he takes off like a cheetah chasing down a gazelle.

And right away he notices the female in distress.

Luckily for Billy Trouble knows exactly what to do.

He climbs up the curtain onto a bookcase and without a moments hesitation launches himself into thin air.

Billy is still talking to 911 when he looks up to see trouble flying through the air.

Trouble the first cat in space.

Billys mom is in a really bad way almost at heavens door when Trouble lands on her chest with a thud.

The chicken bone is dislodged from her airways and ricochets around the room

The paramedics soon arrive and after and Billy’s mom is given the all clear.

Billy gives his mom a big hug and welcomes her back to the land of the living.

Then they both look over to Trouble the hero and saviour.

But Trouble is oblivious to all the attention.

He is way to busy chewing on that pesky chicken bone.

And I get the feeling that he is here to stay.

He isn’t going anywhere.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories now could you please make a donation to go towards me realizing of dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thank again Steven.

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Lowest At My Highest

04 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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Tags

addiction, despair, drugs, family, help

I pick at a scab on my face until it bleeds

And my skin is a nasty shade of yellow

Most of my teeth have fallen out

The drugs are starting to take a heavy toll

 

I am constantly scratching.

And my clothes reek of urine and desperation

I would do anything for a shower.

And to fall asleep in a nice warm bed.

I cant remember the last time that i ate a home cooked meal.

But first i have to score.

 

But my pockets contain nothing but a few coins and a shitload

of lint.

All i can do is walk the streets and wait for an opportunity.

And i don’t have to wait long.

 

Just up ahead a lady is enjoying a coffee at an outdoor cafe.

I am about to ruin her day big time.

She has made a huge mistake.

She has left her handbag sitting on the chair beside her.

Just waiting to be snatched.

 

She sees me approaching.

And i act like an normal person just going about my day.

And the lady doesn’t see the threat and looks away.

Just then i run forward grab that bag and take off.

I am gone before she can even cry out.

 

I go to my spot beneath a bridge to count the takings.

A total of five hundred and twenty dollars.

Enough to keep me going for a while.

 

My local supplier is waiting for me with everything that i need.

A little something to keep the wolves at bay.

Another trip to my so called paradise.

As the drugs take over my body.

I feel myself flying as high as a kite.

But at the same time i am feeling mighty low.

I always feel the lowest at my highest.

Ashamed of all the crimes that i have committed just to feed my

addiction.

I hang my head in shame.

But i know that i will have to score again tomorrow.

 

My name is Owen and i am now 24 years old.

And i have been using drugs since i was thirteen.

My parents were constantly fighting hurling abuse at each other.

So i escaped to the local park

Where i smoked dope to calm my nerves.

And i drank beer to drown my sorrows.

 

Well dope and beer are still my companions.

But now ice is my drug of choice.

It takes me to another dimension another space in time.

When i take i live on the very edge of existence.

Like sliding down the edge of a knife.

That is my life.

That is Ice.

 

I know that because of my appearance that i stick out like a sore

thumb.

But at the same time i can be invisible.

People look at me with a mixture sadness and loathing.

To them i am just another harmless bum.

But i will strike like a cobra when i need to feed my gremlins.

 

And right now my gremlins are hungry.

Every minute of every day all i think about is buying drugs.

My muscles twitch and my pores release the night sweats.

I cant sleep at night because of the constant cravings.

Only the drugs can bring me some sort of relief.

 

The money that i stole is almost gone.

So i decide to visit my grand mother for a meal.

And maybe a loan that i will never re pay

Gran knows that i have a drug problem.

And she has tried to get me help again and again.

But i always tell her the same old bullshit ‘Don’t worry gran

i can stop anytime that i want’

I have told her that lie so many times.

That sometimes i even start to believe it.

 

When gran answers the door.

I cant help but notice the look that she gives me.

A mixture of love pity and hate.

But i don’t blame her at all i have let her down so many times

over the years.

 

We chat away about family and stuff.

But the conversation always turns to my addictions.

As gran talks i block her out.

I know that she means well.

But i don’t need a lecture right now.

All i need is some money to buy my drugs.

I have stolen from gran in the past.

And i will do it again today.

 

When gran visits the bathroom.

I sneak into her bedroom and rummage around looking for jewellery

and money.

When i find what i need i call out goodbye to gran and walk out the

door.

 

After visiting my supplier.

I go to my favourite spot under the bridge.

To satisfy my needs and wants.

As i fly above the clouds i cant help but to think about gran.

She deserves a better grand son than me.

All she wants to do is help but i keep pushing her away.

Again i am feeling the lowest at my highest.

This fucking Ice has really got a grip on me.

And it isn’t letting go anytime soon.

 

A few days later gran’s money is almost gone.

So i head off towards my last resort.

Back to the park that i first visited when i was thirteen.

In the back corner is the public toilets.

Where i give blow jobs for $50 a go.

God i am not even high but i am feeling mighty low.

 

I now have enough money to last me about a week.

I even buy some food and some clean clothes from the salvation

army.

Where i start talking to the girl behind the counter.

Her name is Melissa and she offers to help me in any way that she

can.

 

I thank her for the offer ‘But i don’t need any help’

‘I am just going through a bad patch’

 

Once again i lie to myself and to people who want to help.

 

About a week later i leave my spot under the bridge.

On my endless quest to find money and drugs.

I am thinking about my situation so i don’t hear a group of thugs

coming up behind me.

I remember getting king hit and laying on the ground being

repeatedly kicked and stomped on.

Thankfully i don’t remember anything after that.

 

I wake up in a hospital a few days later.

With a fractured skull  and eye socket.

A few broken ribs and i am bruised from head to toe.

 

I don’t get any visitors.

Everybody gave up on me years ago.

And as i lie in that bed my addiction is crying out for attention.

I need to get out of here and fast.

As i am looking around for my clothes and a way to escape.

A girl enters my room wearing my room wearing a salvation army

uniform.

 

It is Melissa the girl from op shop who is going from room to room

visiting the sick and the lonely.

She recognises me and tells me that her offer still stands

If i want help all i have to do is ask.

I tell her ‘Thanks but no thanks i will be fine’

 

All i can think about is Ice.

And how to get my hands on some.

I know that i need help but i need the drugs more.

I must have been hallucinating.

And to this day i don’t know why i said it.

But i looked at Melissa as she was walking out the door.

And i silently screamed one word HELP.

 

I spent the next six months in rehab.

Getting rid of my demons and addictions.

It wasn’t easy.

I almost walked out the door a thousand times

But i thought about my family and friends that i have let

down badly over the years.

Especially my gran who i love dearly.

 

I walked out of rehab clean and sober.

Ready to start my life all over again.

I will need to find myself a job and somewhere to stay.

But firstly i need to visit my gran and apologise and being such

a bad grand son.

 

But i have to make a small detour first.

I go to my favourite spot under the bridge.

And i start to dig.

About a foot down i uncover what i have buried there.

An old biscuit tin that contains my treasured items.

Amongst all my stuff is grans jewellery that i just couldn’t

bring myself to hock.

 

I hold that tin close to my chest and walk towards gran’s  house.

 

I knock on the front door.

Not knowing what to expect.

She opens the door and her eyes light up ‘Oh Owen i thought you

must of overdosed or something’.

I walk in and put the biscuit tin on the table.

And i tell gran to open it.

 

She is surprised  to see her jewellery inside “I thought i would

never see these again’

“They aren’t worth much but they mean the world to me’

 

I tell gran about my time in rehab.

And how i have been stealing from her for years.

She just smiles ” I know i have been waiting for you to clean yourself

up and be a good person again.”

‘Welcome back’

 

If you are having problems with drugs or alcohol.

GET HELP.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

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Attic To The Past

28 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

attic, birthday, family, ghosts, heaven, memories, the past

Today is a very special day for me.

It is my 78th birthday.

I jump out of bed as fast as i can.

But it isn’t that easy at my age.

Than i sit at the kitchen and drink a

hot cup of tea.

As i sit there my mind starts to look back

All i have now is half remembered memories.

Well i cant sit here all day.

Maybe someone will pay me a visit?

I will have to make sure that the house is nice and clean

Surely my son and daughter will bring the grandchildren

around.

I haven’t seen them in quite a long time.

The only person who visits is the nice lady from meals on wheels.

I wonder if she knows how lonliness feels?

I go from room to room tidying as i go.

Than i comb my hair and brush my teeth.

And use some aftershave.

Now all i can do is wait.

Hang on was that a knock on the front door?

I rush to open it up but there is nobody there

Just a lot of undisturbed air.

I sit on my lounge and turn on the TV

I need to calm down.

There will be a phone call any minute.

Than i hear a noise coming from upstairs.

It sounded like foot steps up in the attic.

As i make my way towards that upper room

My heart is beating fast boom boom boom.

When i enter the attic all i see is dust motes and cob webs

I haven’t been up here in more than twenty years.

Nobody is up here except maybe some ghosts.

Even though the attic is full of memories.

I am starting to have second thoughts.

Because as you know not all memories are good.

Than i notice a favourite piece of wood.

In the corner near an old possum nest is my old cricket

bat.

I pick it up and start to play some shots.

Than my arthritis tells me that i am not twenty one anymore.

I sit down on an old wooden chest and think back.

And my face does something it hasn’t done for a while.

It transforms itself and turns into a smile.

Near my feet lies an old rubber ball.

That belonged to a neighbours dog that adopted me as it’s owner.

It was old and cranky with a grey muzzle.

But to me Cass was always kind and gentle.

A black doberman Cass was the best dog in the world.

We used to run around and play in the park.

And as i listen now i can still hear him bark.

I hang my head as i think back.

Than i feel a change in the air.

I look up to see the dust motes dancing and forming shapes.

I see my late wife Cindy in her wedding dress

She was always glowing as pretty as a picture.

I start to weep god i really miss her.

About a decade ago Cindy found a lump in her breast.

She fought the best that she could.

But cancer is a really hard disease to beat.

The radiation and chemo took a heavy toll on her body.

And just three months after the diagnosis

My darling Cindy was gone.

Taken by that god awful disease.

With a heavy heart i fall to my knees.

The dust motes are still dancing and mingling with the moon

beams.

And my deceased brother and sister appear.

Greg is riding his motorbike.

While Sue is cuddling her kids.

They are both doing what they liked to do the most.

Greg rode his motorbike into heaven.

And 28 years later Sue joined him in the big sky.

Both of them were taken way too soon.

The dust motes still dance and swoon.

As i look at those dust motes.

My brother and sister sort of fade away.

I want to run into those motes and make them re arrange

How dare those motes take my brother and sister away again.

But i know that one day i will once again see my brother sister

and wife.

Because after death there is life.

The dust has finally settled.

But my memories are still strong.

The attic to the past has stirred up a lot of thoughts.

Memories of long lost souls.

Names and faces that i will never forget as long as i live.

Why do people have to die?

I head back downstairs before i start to cry.

I turn on the kettle and have another cup of tea.

Before my offspring and grand children arrive.

Hopefully they will bring beer and some chocolate cake.

I go and make myself a sandwich.

But as i eat my brain has too much time to think.

I wash my thoughts and dishes down the sink.

Three o’clock and my phone still hasn’t rung.

Maybe my family is stuck in heavy traffic?

Or they are still shopping for my present?

But deep down in my heart i know that they have forgotten

My family will not visit for my birthday.

I will just have to celebrate alone.

There isn’t any birthday cake or candles to blow out.

Nor any presents to unwrap.

So i just lie down and have a little nap.

But i cant sleep.

All i can think about is that attic to the past.

I was happy sitting there amongst the dust motes.

So i go back upstairs to that special room

I sit on that wooden chest but nothing happens

The dust motes and the magic has gone.

The attic is now nothing more than a room full of mould.

I just slink downstairs to my lonely little household.

I sit in my chair watching the sun go down.

Waiting for my TV dinner to cook in the oven.

Than i will have an early night.

Or maybe have a few beers to drown my sorrows

Than headlights appears in the driveway.

My loving family is finally here.

I am really had any doubts.

From feeling way down in the dumps.

I am now way up in the clouds.

And they say that every cloud has a sliver lining.

And even though it is dark.

The sun is surely shining.

Hugs and kisses are exchanged.

And i confess that i didn’t think that they were coming.

That i was just about to go to bed.

My daughter pipes up ‘But dad i told you that we are taking

you out for chinese’

‘So go grab your jacket we have a birthday to celebrate’

‘I have booked a table and we dont want to be late’

The grand Kids are jumping up and down raring to go.

I grab my keys and jacket and head out the door.

Surrounded by my loving family.

But i cant resist one last look up to that attic to the past.

I know that my memories will last and last.

Memories remind you of your yesterdays.

But you cant live in the past.

You have to live in the here and now.

So i close my front door.

And we all head on our way

To celebrate my 78th birthday.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please help me achieve my dream of becoming a fulltime writer by making a small donation i would really appreciate it. Thanks again Steven.

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