6:30_My Future in Black and White_Flying with Sparrows_Break down on the I-10
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6:30
My clock says 6、 There are thirty minutes to go. Thirty minutes is half an hour because it is half of sixty. There are sixty minutes in an hour. So there is half an hour before I can go to mummy and daddy’s room. I want to go now. I don't like being alone. But it is a rule. They made that rule when I was little because they don’t like waking up early. Before 7 is early. I wanted 6 and they wanted 7, but I couldn't wait until 7、 So, we made a deal. 6:30.Oh. Now my clock says 6:01、 29 minutes to go.I hate waiting. Mummy always tells me I should read.‘Time flies when you’re having fun.’That doesn...
My Future in Black and White
Standing in the middle of the cobblestone bridge, she pulls a hair tie from her purse. Tired of fighting with her windblown hair, she gathers her long, charcoal locks. As she twirls them into a bun, Bernadette watches an old black and white photograph, lifted by the wind, land by her boot. Plopping the bun on her head, she bends to pick up the face-down photograph. A barely legible note on the back of the photo reads, “If ound, ease retu to Ms. roth shbur in ville, C.” After reading what she can, she instinctively turns it over. She sucks in air as she studies the beautiful mystery woman and s...
Flying with Sparrows
Flying with Sparrows by J. M. OxfordSparrows parade on tree branches outside my window. They cozy up to each other until taken by flight. I dream of flight – far away to exotic territories; an island would do. Oh, Monday, Monday – coffee, and e-mail. Let’s see. August 29th, 1960, an offer from the university featuring a study abroad program – Spain, Germany, Costa Rica, and Cuba … Cuba! Oh, imagine an island get-away.Monday mornings feel a bit confining. It's as if I need to break out of a cocoon of comfort to trudge the road of continuous success. I am willing. Two more sips of coffee and I’m...
Break down on the I-10
Ed had to take a leak so he stuck his arm out the window to try to wave to cars behind him that he needed to pass. His blinker was busted and he was hoping to get it fixed once he and Sherri made it to California.“Can you help me?” he asked Sherri who was flipping through a magazine. “What?”“I need you to wave the cars in the right lane so I can move over.” Sherri sighed and cranked her window down. Ed waved his arm like he was swirling a t-shirt above his head, while Sherri’s gesture resembled more like a composer encouraging her orchestra to pick up the pace to get to the crescendo. Slowly,...