copyright 2017 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
"Of luscious lips
and rosy hips
of painful scars
of hushed tones
and passionate moans."
Some mornings Dad would do the produce run first thing while I did the juice. We were churning out produce ever week. We could have started a neighborhood produce stand since we lived right by the road.
By the time he came home with our weekly haul, Mom and I had had our juice and I had cleaned everything up. I fit my chores in as well. Dad drank his juice. While I unpacked, packed, and put the produce away. Then he was off again for meetings and others errands.
It was amazing, what survived the storms we'd been through and sad what didn't make it. We'd left our washer and dryer under tarps on the neighbor's property for almost a year after the foreclosure ("Is The Juice Worth The Squeeze?" Book 1).
We had nowhere to put a lot of our things. What didn't get left behind on our former Family Farm, was either in a very limited space in the neighbor's barn or outside under tarps.
Both the washer and dryer had been through harsh winter storms and summer heat. When we finally moved over to the place we were renting, after living in a hotel for a year, we were hesitant they would work. Hopeful. But aware of the reality. Electrical equipment and the elements of nature generally don't do together well.
The dryer had broken on us a year after we put it to work again. We'd been hanging our clothes outside on a make-shift clothes line in the front yard for almost a year. But winter was here. We couldn't dry our clothes in the rain. Dad had scrapped together enough money to buy a new dryer, which was a feat in and of itself.
So when the dryer arrived that day, I was beyond elated. Then it wouldn't fit through the door to the laundry room. My heart sunk.
"We can exchange it for a different one, that is a little bit smaller," the delivery man said.
"Okay," I said.
"So you want to refuse the dryer?" the delivery man asked.
I didn't want to refuse the dryer. But I did want to refuse a whole bunch of other shit that was happening in my life.
How come I couldn't selectively refuse certain things?
"Yeah, I guess so," I said.
"Okay. So if you'll sign here, stating you are refusing the dryer," he replied.
I signed my John Doe.
"It will probably be another two weeks or so before we get the other dryer," he said.
So much for a new dryer. So much for nice warm and snuggly fresh and clean laundry. The new dryer had been so close to being ours but not close enough. Not by three inches. Fuck my life. Sigh.
Me: Going to the Doc's in the a.m. Still a lot of tightness and discomfort in the abdomen. but making small improvements.
Bro: Yeah. Small improvements are good but an end to the tightness would be better.
Me: No foolin'. True.
Tomorrow would hopefully bring more answers than questions, more resolution than this fucking status quo. Maybe, just maybe it would also bring some real relief for Mom. It was amazing she was still alive. Having your shit backed up, can kill you. Literally. Real time. No fooling around. The woman should be dead two times over at least.
Juice Day 79
4 leaves collard greens
1 cup red leaf lettuce
1 tablespoon ginger root
4 leaves napa cabbage
1 ½ stalks of celery
½ cup fresh pineapple
½ an apple
YOU ARE READING
A HARD RUN INTO HELL Book 4 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I was standing in Hell, burning. I looked over to see my Dad, standing right next to me. He was burning too. We had brought my Mom home from the hospital and care facility, after being diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer and decided not to do chemo, ag...