Hindsight

The question of “what if” plays rampant in my brain

Rolling around unbridled, like an runaway train

Those gone by moments I wish I could change

Just a few of my choices, it would be no big thing

Surrounded by opportunities and chances I missed

Makes me believe that my life could be better than this.

To the left are my regrets, missed chances to the right

Straight ahead a longing for the could have might.

But then who would have done the things that I did,

like married my wife or been the dad to my kids?

Who would have been there in those moments so dear,

When life hung in the balance and death was so near?

Who would have stayed up for all those late night talks,

And who would have gone on those evening walks,

Yes, if I made a choice different, my life would not be mine,

And in spite of all those lost choices, I think I turned out fine.

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Dinner is Served

She stared at her husband from across the candle lit table as he recounted to her the effort that the chef had gone through to make their meal. “First he seared the meat. Seasoning it with several spices and herbs.” He pinched his fingers together as he imitated the movements of the chef. “Then he stirred in the milk, slowly integrating it into the pan.” His hand started a stirring motion. “Once the meat and sauce were well mixed, he then took the noodles and poured them into the concoction, letting them steep and absorb the rich flavor he had already created. The smell was divine, the aroma filling the entire kitchen.” He raised his hands up and out, expressing the way the smell carried through the room. “The chef then covered the dish, allowing it to simmer and boil.” He hunched over a touch, letting his fingers mimic the boiling and contorting his face, almost looking like a witch hovering over her cauldron. “As the dish stewed, he started cleaning up the entire kitchen. Used utensils, in the sink. The measuring cups, in the sink. The finished pots and pans, in the sink.” She watched him as he mimed placing dishes into an unseen sink and smiled. “I watched as he washed them, then dried them and put them away. By the time he was done, the only unclean items were the pot our dinner was cooking in and the one spoon he used to stir it with.” His smile widened as he recounted the events. “Finally, he served it up, and then, as he was leaving through the back door, he stopped, tipped his chef hat and said ‘Bon Appetite.’ And that is the story of how I had this very special dinner made for you.” He smiled at her as he raised his fork to his mouth and then said, “Happy Anniversary.”

She smiled at him, looked down at her plate, then taking a portion of the meal in front of her on her fork, raised it to her lips as she said, “Honey, I saw the box of hamburger helper in the trash.”

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The Interview

He waited for an hour. He checked his watch again to make sure that he hadn’t missed the meeting time. Ten more minutes. Just enough time to arrive and not seem overly early. Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he decided it was time to go.

He reached behind him and picked up the backpack from the car seat then headed toward the school. It was an older building, probably constructed in the early part of the last century. The stone exterior had a very vintage appearance with etched glass windows and a very formal entrance.

DROP! And Give Me 20!

I use to be one of those juvenile boot camp drill instructor’s years ago. You know the one’s you use to see on Jerry Springer or Maury Povich. Yep, camouflaged, Smokey the Bear hat wearing, boot kicking Drill Instructor of kids who

Ok, this isn’t me, but, you get the picture.

had been court ordered to attend our program. We marched them, PT’d them, ran them, made them clean their rooms, had work details for the obstacle course, and every now and again, when one decided he wanted to ‘buck’, we took them to ‘The Pit’, a place where we worked out their problem with an extreme physical workout. That was our job. But only half of it. (BTW, the half I did not like, in case you were wondering).