I posted this "Ship of Fools" chapter of my Autobiography In Music a year ago, so this qualifies for both the Resurrection group and Joy's Saturday Writing Essential prompt. I'm banking on the likelihood that I've left a laugh-out-loud error somewhere in here that will qualify it for Ruth's Mirthday group.
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Mike ruined everything when he referred to us as the ship of fools.
I put my early fear aside and laughed with the others. Bob Seger was in the room, so there was a slight possibility that the deeper significance might not settle anywhere. Still, I wanted Mike to take it back and never again suggest a name for that puppy. We couldn't keep it and I wasn't ready to let go. Not even close.
The laughter stopped short, too soon for legitimate replacement emotions, too late to pretend nothing had happened. Mike slouched back in the chair and braided his fingers around his beer bottle. The four of us locked in a silent group stare. My hope sank as I watched him roll the rounded edge of the bottle on the table, aware that the others couldn't look away either, and frightened by what that meant.
The name settled in hearts that would break now, when our puppy walked away. Determined to ride out every last second, I dared not be the first to move and end it all. I willed my bladder into submission, swallowed a sneeze, controlled my breathing, and snuggled up to the warmth of our fraying connection.
Collective passion for separate, sometimes conflicting dreams had united us, even when scattered to opposite corners in crowded places. Appreciation of the unspoken hunger we shared had bound us, like the rope that secures toddlers on a field trip. Only, our tie was invisible, even to us.
Until Mike named it.
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Comments: 19
God... sometimes, I just... urgh... hate you for your brilliance. I want to have written that image.
Dammit.
And, although my eyes is not nearly as well-trained as those My Friend, Dame Ruth, I also couldn't find a thing wrong with this well-written piece that tight enough to bounce a FREAKIN' QUARTER OFF OF... 'cepting the fact, like I said, that I didn't write it (and I'm really none too please to not have lived it, either.)
I used my Super-Duper Invisible Comment Editor to fix that. Cool, huh?
And I almost forgot: Gold star.
Invisible Comment Editor to the rescue, again!
I'm featuring this in the Resurrection Group.
Sorry I'm so slow in getting back here. I appreciate your comments. Often, I read poetry that I don't understand yet everyone else leaves comments as though they got it and I feel left out. And most of the time when I ask questions, the author doesn't come back to explain. I don't want to do that to you.
At first, I thought maybe this was a 'had to be there' situation and something I couldn't explain. I've thought about it a few days and hope I can make it make sense, even if you haven't been there.
This is about a group of people who had come together through circumstances - met in school, through friends, at work, etc. Possibly, they wouldn't have shown much interest in getting to know one another if not for the circumstance that forced them to meet. Somewhere along the way, an unexplainable bond forms. It feels great but can't be described.
I know that once someone voices recognition of the unexplanable, and everyone tries to make sense of it, it will lose the magic. When I realize that others are thinking the same, it brings us closer and makes it that much harder to realize it is all going to change.