Stories - FD Thornton

(Buffy, our three year old Calico rescue) It’s nearly four in the afternoon and I’m just getting a chance to sit outside. Since six this morning I’ve been prepping the house for my upcoming surgery. It’s basically a day surgery where I pop in and pop out the same day. But I do have my particular precautions due to my heart situation and the medications I take. I can’t say I’m excited, but the doctors are sure that this procedure will help more than it hurts.   So I’m giving the house an extra cleaning, keeping the dishes and laundry caught up and cleaned. I got my meal planning done for the week. Went to the store and stocked up on pantry items. Went and took care of George, and gassed up the Kia. Basically, making plans for a weekend of quiet recovery. So I’m sitting here in my outdoor rocker. Enjoying a very pleasant warm breeze. The grass just got mowed, so I got the smell of fresh cut grass surrounding me. Any other day, I’d probably be super duper happy. But all

It’s hard to dream of ambition or freedom, when shackles are chained to your feet. When freewill is given to others and peace of mind is dependent what someone else feels. It’s a Godforsaken duality when on one hand your praised as a saint, yet you feel inwardly selfish.  Love, honor, and charity are not given consideration in a world of selfish intent. I often feel like I walk a tightrope between the world of the giving and a drunken dance of my own appetites. Is there such a thing as balance? I certainly don’t feel balanced. I’m not on a team, and I’m definitely not on my own. Yet I’m surrounded by others with agendas all their own.  If you were to ask me, what the hell are you talking about? I don’t know if I could give you an answer. Because I have dreams of my own, yet I feel trapped in a perpetual loop of being in charge of another life. I guess I could pen this as just another story of guilt and entrapment. One I’m sure you’re tired of hearing. But it still gives me

It’s getting hard to focus anymore, I’m just starved for a little silly conversation. I’m just tired of talking about whatever ailment I have today. But after a light shower just passed through, I did rehang some laundry that hadn’t dried yet. There’s a breeze is light blowing from of the south, but it is strong enough to shoo away any gnats. I went over to the convenience store to get me and the cat Jim Slim and a fountain drink. Lisa and I had just come back from seeing the grandyoungins. But they were far too busy in building a blanket fort to worry about us. I’d put up a picture, but my daughter would get mad for putting up another pic of her messy house. But just to hear them giggling and laughing was well worth the trip. After we left, we want to the local grocery store. Now mind you, I live in the country, 27 miles from the nearest Wal-Jacks. Yet this country store doesn’t have one bag of dry beans. I’ve had a hankering for some slow cooked baby Lima beans. Looks

Again, that little flashing line is taunting me, daring me write something profound. But sadly, I’ve sent the last few days without much to say. Oh, when I’m out and about I put on my little show. You know nothing much to see, just a happy go lucky jester, putting out what the world wants to see. An interesting turn of the phase, what the world wants to see. Telling me what I’m really feeling isn’t worth their time. Still the make-up is applied and the lines well-rehearsed. For no one wants to see a reflection, they only want to see perfection. Something they can’t see in themselves. But I am spent, and I am tried. But I have no place to run. Too many depend on me with their burdens left undone. But beneath this façade of what’s to be expected and what they want to get. Lies a broken man, dried up of any potential there might have been left. So don’t try to read too much into this. For there’s not much left to tell. Less and less pours out of this old mind. So when it

Not that I’m feeling particularly inspired this morning. I thought I’d just lay here and jot down a few lines, just to see where they take me. A while back I had a doctor tell me I must have a high tolerance for pain, considering the procedure he was doing to me. Well, I don’t know about that, because yesterday I was going through a fair amount of pain and embarrassment. The part l hate the most about being sick is constant control it has over my life. I mean we all have our inconveniences with illness from time to time. It just seems like for the last 20 years; I’ve been bouncing from one illness to another like a ping pong ball in a lottery machine. Between mental and physical illnesses, I can’t seem to catch a break. And yes, I know. Everyone says to, “Hang in there baby”. But there are times when I’m just tired of hanging there. Besides, you ever wonder how many times that poor kitten got put up in that tree just to get that shot? So what’s the moral or hidden gem

It’s late in the afternoon, 7:53 to be exact. Against my own laziness, I decided to come back outside. We had fried chicken, mash potatoes and gravy for supper. Not exactly a healthy meal, but least the chicken was prepared in an air fryer. I had one piece of chicken and a single serving of potatoes and gravy, no margarine. The little old lady from down the street is taking the kids she watches around the block trying to wear them out. All while I sip lemon tea and watch the sun disappear. It’s not much to write home about, but my Grandma Thornton would send letters to my Dad with similar sentiments. The art of the tale doesn’t always have to have any direct meaning. But thousands of years of storytelling always makes for a good evening. I don’t have any friends left to hang around the fire. Most of my family is just so far away my tired bones can’t handle the strain. So I sit in my isolation with the birds, the sycamores, and the occasional cat keeping me company. A