Valentine To A Writer
Roses are red,
the leaves are green,
what you’ll write next
The Towel Dream
I found myself as a young man at a wide, flat river. Dark as a winter night, the river didn’t reflect any light.
It was a cold day. Swimmers filled the river. They were heading downstream. I was not a swimmer, but walked among them as they came out of the water, giving them towels, talking to them and encouraging them.
Three swimmers caught my eye. One female, two males, all young, one black, one brown, one white, nothing extraordinary about them. Like the other swimmers, they wore swimsuits, and these weren’t anything special. Yet, watching them, I thought, keep an eye on them.
Seeing them leaving the water, I rushed to get them towels. All the towels were blue or gray; I wanted different colors for these three. I thought different colors would highlight them and help me keep watch on them. I ran around asking for other colored towels, and then demanded those towels. At last, red, yellow, and white striped beach towels were brought to me. I hurried over and gave the towels to those three.
Someone else with towels asked me what I was doing, etc. I explained that I wanted to keep an eye on those three. The other queried, “Why?”
“Because they’re special,” I explained. And then I knew, “They’re not part of this world. That’s why I wanted to give them special towels.” I gathered insight that the blue and gray towels muted people. Colors brought them more alive, bringing out talents. I said, “They’re shapeshifters from somewhere else, but they don’t know it. They can be anything, but the towels are keeping them unaware.”
After saying that, I took in the rest swimming by or toweling off and wondered, why don’t we give them colored towels, too?
Sunday’s Theme Music
Winter wonderland has returned to Ashlandia. Temp flutters around 29 F. Fog, ice, and frost lick the environment white. Sun participation was brought in at 7:11 AM. Not that you can swear it. Visibility is sliced to a hundred feet. The sun is much further out, not even a pale orb behind the scenes at the moment.
It’s Feb 12, 2023. Sunday. Today’s high will be sixty-two, the weather gossips whisper. What? 62 F out of this? Don’t make me laugh. It’ll probably happen. Weather, you know. Changeable. Ashlandia’s sunset is due at 5:40 PM. Winter storm warning out for the week’s start. Buckle on cold weather gear as temperatures shift into the freezing zone and clouds deliver rain and snow.
With winter in mind, The Neurons cranked up, Winter – Edgar — “Frankenstein” — and then Johnny and Edgar with “Tobacco Road”. But the little ones finally settled on “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo” out of the seventies of last century. The question always worrying my gray functions is, what exactly is a Hoochie Koo? Miriam-Webster’s online dictionary isn’t helpful on the matter. I’ve always associated Hoochie Koochie with belly dancing because that’s what an aunt told me when I was young. But “Koochie koochie, koo,” was used by Mom to tickle and play with us when we were toddlers. My brain is confused.
Anyway, here is the music. Johnny and his band bring it. Hope you have an entertaining Sunday. Coffee is at hand. We have launch. Hoochie koochie.