Sally and Mort are moving.
No. Seriously. They bought that ranch they were looking at
and are planning a move just after Christmas.
Part of me tingles with anticipation at the thought.
Imagine. A life without the constant worry at the back of
your brain about what mischief Sally is getting into somewhere under the roof
you share.
Okay, you’re right. Of course, I will still worry. It will
just be from a longer distance.
And maybe one step removed.
I have to admit I love the ranch. Space features large in
describing it: Large house. Large barns. Large pastures.
Large trees surrounding the house and barns and pastures.
I haven’t been there a lot. Peter and I have been planning
our wedding so Sally and Mort have been traveling back and forth on their own—or
with Dad—supervising the ongoing renovations.
Because of course, one must renovate to make a house one’s
own.
Right?
Or maybe they’re just redoing everything in cast iron or
plastic.
Sally will be living there after all.
Anyways, between their excitement, and Peter’s and mine, and
Mom and Dad’s over their anticipated next baby, there hasn’t been even a
remotely unhappy face in our house for weeks!
In fact, it’s hard to recall
the last moment we may have felt the least bit negative.
Until today…
You have to know that, when Sally celebrates, she c e l e b
r a t e s. The whole enchilada. Nothing stinted.
And she is really
anticipating moving into her ranch.
So I know there will be celebratory…erm…stuff.
A brass band. Maybe a parade.
Fireworks.
Okay, I’m exaggerating about the brass band and the parade.
But the fireworks? Real.
Ahem…
Sally had a big box of them sitting between the beautiful
little storage shed near the house and the fence that ran along the closest
pasture.
A fence none of us realized was electrified.
Something like this could only happen in movies.
Or in Sally’s life.
Sigh.
Of course, this was the day that Peter and I decided to
visit and ooh and aah over the progress being made.
Dad and Mort were over by that box of fireworks. Dad was
investigating them—seeing what they needed to be safely set off.
He’s like that.
Mort was playing with his new lighter.
Because of course he would be playing with a lighter in the one spot in all of creation where it really wasn't the smart thing to do.
Here is where I admit I have no idea why Mort has a new
lighter. He doesn’t smoke. And neither does anyone in our family. I’m thinking
it has something to do with being on a ranch now and needing to be able to ‘live
off the land’ at a moment’s notice.
Anyways, he and Dad were talking while Dad investigated and
Mort…flipped.
Then Dad went to stand up. And reached out, naturally, for
the top strand of that fence.
That none of us realized was electrified.
Till then.
Dad is made of tough stuff—former marine and all that—but he
wasn’t ready for the charge that shot through him.
I swear his hair stood on end. He jumped and shook and beat
a rapid tattoo on the ground with his heels.
And that’s when things really fell apart.
Trying to get his balance, he reached out rather blindly
for something to hold onto and again grabbed the wire.
This time, his arms shot out.
The one hit Mort right in the glasses.
Then knocked the lighter from his hand.
Said lighter then arched—with uncanny accuracy—straight into
the box of fireworks.
The resultant fireworks show could be seen clear back in
the city.
Or so I’m told.
Dad and Mort barely escaped with their hides intact.
The side of the shed is toast.
And Sally is quite disappointed that she missed the whole
thing.
Not one to leave things undone,
I understand that she’s on her way into the city to procure more fireworks.
I probably should warn you that, if our family can
accomplish that kind of damage without Sally, just imagine what will happen
with her present.
May heaven smile on us all.
Use Your Words is a writing challenge!
Neither of us knows what the other will do with her words.
This month, Karen gave me:
undone ~ recall ~ unhappy ~ glasses ~ tattoo
Thank you, my friend!
Now go see what Karen did with my words!
