I’m back! I have been doing a lot of writing by hand lately. Sometimes it’s just helpful to switch up those pathways to creativity. The problem with that can be that I need to type everything I write. There are worst things in life, I’m sure. I’ve also been reading a lot lately. I finished The Weird Sisters and am listening to Tanavarie Due’s The Good House. But enough about me, here is my 10 minute write.
Only Mr. Henry would arrive at someone else’s party full of demands. Even though I’ve made my way back down stairs, I hang back in the kitchen, grazing the veggie platter and giving myself a pep talk.
“You can do this. This is the last visit until Thaksgiving. It will not kill you to go back out there.” Just then an arrow lands with a sharp “thwat” into the hedge outside the kitchen window. “Okay, it might kill you. But would that really be that bad?”
Daddy’ and Mr. Henry are laughing loudly at Edgar Winston who was standing next to the hedge and is shaking with nerves. “Man up, son,” Daddy says giving him a clap on the shoulder, “You’re looking like casper.” Edgar, who gets his pail skin from his white mother and his kinky hair from his black father, has gone sheet white. He shakes his head and our eyes meet when he looks into the kitchen window. I offer him a weak smile and can’t keep from shaking my head in embarrassment and relief at the thought that, hey, at least it wasn’t me out there. Sorry, Edgar, not today.
Image: ‘Mooki feels shame‘