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Where I'm From
Contributed by
Sylvias
on
Tuesday, 25th May 2004 @ 08:03:19 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
If I was to tell you where Im from what would you want to hear? Would I tell you about my house, with flowers everywhere some smashed by stray basketballs, my dads boat wet with the memory of water from his weekly fishing trips with his beer-guzzling buddies. Or how about the backyard with the pool and Jacuzzi in reverse order of heat the pool warm and the Jacuzzi cold. If you enter any room you are sure to see the pee stains left from old markings of my dogs Nike and Wilson. First you enter the laundry room with clothes thrown about on the floor for Maria our housekeeper to wash, to the left is the computer room where youll find me most days of the week on the computer, trying to get a new high score in pinball, or reading fan fiction on the internet while singing along to my newest CD by my favorite artist Annie Lennox. Down the hall at the end is my sisters room neatly organized. A lot of the times shes there in her room putting on makeup, the popular music of the week blasting in the hallway from her stereo. We have a good relationship she and I, she makes fun of my musical tastes and I nag her about her lack of memory and her early sleeping schedule, shes my little freak and I wouldnt have it any other way.
I swear sometimes she act obsessive compulsive with her organizing, she used to collect pens and school supplies basically enough said. Now me Im almost the exact opposite with clothes and towels thrown all about the floor I could care less about making the bed. My room is my sanctuary and I like my posters of the Eiffel tower, cute puppies and topless men hanging on my walls and my collectibles and antiques like my angel plates and my aquatic and mythical creatures theme.
How about the noise you are sure to hear the sound of the radio to ward off any suspicious strangers, or the noise of the TV carelessly left on or the dogs barking or planes flying overhead or popcorn popping or my mother complaining about the weight shes gaining moaning on and on about how shes sure they will kick her out of weight watchers. On Friday mornings you can hear the sounds of Paul the gardener mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, planting the flowers. God that man is dedicated, 82 and still working, he used to work for my grandmother long deceased. It seems like nothing can stop that man, one time this summer my mother accidentally ran over his toe with her car, the ambulance came and everything but he still insisted on working afterwards. Most mornings I can hear the birds chirping outside my window welcoming the new day, five o clock every morning outside my window lucky me, its almost like those spiteful little devils decided to go specifically outside my window just to torture me. Ive taken to putting cotton in my ears while I sleep.
Most mornings youll find my dad outside in the backyard sitting in his comfy chair, smoking cigars, reading the newspaper watching the sunrise. Later on in the day hes there in that same chair, only this time he has friends with him, the Jeffs are what my mom, my sister, and I have so lovingly christened them. I swear most of them are named Jeff we (meaning all us girls) like to joke about them saying that the old fart must have put a want ad in the paper saying white male businessman currently going through mid-life crisis seeking males twenty years minor that like drinking various alcoholic beverages, smoking cigars, fishing at three in the morning, swimming in underwear when impressionable youth is present in the vicinity, and playing basketball at odd hours of the night. Only Jeffs need apply. Not that I hate the Jeffs I just dont like their smell and everything they stand for.
Most days my mom can be found walking with Ann Walker, talking on the phone with the family, going to the movies with Mrs. Kelly, having various meals with the ladies, and on Tuesday and Thursday chatting with Maria our housekeeper. My moms the type of gal that you would want around when your ego needed a boosting, shell crack up I mean face turning bright red type of laughter after everything you say. Shes the lady that you see helping little old ladies that she doesnt know cross the street. If you met her she would find out your life history in like ten seconds, she genuinely cares about others. Her job in life is to continually embarrass me and gross me out, dancing around grabbing her crotch imitating P. Diddy and Ja Rule, checking out guys in there twenties but not in the gross pedophiliac way but in the Mother I cant believe you just said that way. Tuesday nights youll find us holding hands singing along to the Gilmore Girls theme song while my sister plugs her ears trying to block us out.
Copyright ©
Sylvias
... [
2004-05-25 20:03:19]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Where I'm From
(User Rating: 1 )
by holderofthestone on
Thursday, 27th May 2004 @ 01:34:31 AM AEST
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a Message)
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| ...... just venting here? descriptive |
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