"First, let me express my sincere thanks to Tara Chevrestt for hosting me on her blog this week for the Tasha Turner Coaching Virtual Blog Tour. Thank you, Tara! I appreciate your hard work and your generosity in sharing your blog!
Our assignment was to
write a Flash Fiction piece inspired by a picture. When I saw this picture, I
knew I had to write about it. I write for women over age 50. This is a picture of all my character
desires: peace, love, joy. And isn’t that what we all desire, no matter what our
age?"
So here goes:
I hesitated before opening the door and asked myself if I
really wanted to do this.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, I answered myself. Don’t be silly.
You’re a grown woman. Go inside. It’s your birthday present
to yourself, after all.
No one else knows you well enough to buy it for you.
No one. Not one person knew me that well, especially not
Dave, my husband of 30 years.
The brass prayer bells jangled when I opened the door. It
had been over 30 years since I’d last been in the local head shop. Of course,
now the High Flyer had added the words “specialty store” to its sign on the
wall outside to convince the police that it offered more than rolling papers
and bongs.
Other than the name, not much had changed in the tidy little
shop since the last time I’d visited. Funny…the last time I’d been in here I
was shopping for a birthday present. I bought Dave a Pink Floyd poster for his
21st birthday.
Mellow incense wafted through the air. Hookahs were
displayed on the walls behind gleaming glass counters filled with artsy looking
glass pipes. Decorative swords and martial arts equipment hung neatly on the
opposite wall behind the racks of tie-dyed tee shirts. Tarot cards and crystals
occupied a long display case next to shelves filled with incense sticks and
cones. Good marketing technique demanded that the teakwood burners were close
by. Teas, cigars, and herbal remedies all had their place on the spotless
shelves.
A balding man
sporting a long gray ponytail approached me when I stopped at the display of
DVDs. Embarrassed when I realized they
were all rated XXX, I looked up and saw the bigger than life size dildos stored
above the porn behind locked glass doors.
Well damn, I thought. Maybe some things had changed. I sure
didn’t remember those from my last visit!
“Can I help you find something?” the old hippie asked.
I blushed.
“Uh…yes,” I said. “I want to buy a poster.”
“Anything special in mind?” he smiled.
“The one in the window,” I said. “I noticed it yesterday
when I drove past here on my way to work.”
“It’s just the right thing to put over my desk,” I added.
“Hendrix? Yeah…that’s a great one,” he said.
“Um, no. The circle colored blue and purple and green,” I
answered.
“Oh, that one!” he said. “It’s not a poster. It’s one of my
originals…on canvas. Yeah. I like that one too.”
He walked over to the window, lifted the fabric backdrop and
pulled the painted canvas out. He handed it to me.
My hand shook a little when I took it. Yes. This was just
what I wanted. I didn’t know it until I saw it yesterday, but I had wanted this
exact thing for a very long time. The circle was painted in swirly greens and
blues and purples, yellows and browns on a background of pale gray. Encircling
the design were the words peace, joy, intuition, love, gratitude, compassion.
These were all the things, the feelings, I wanted. I had
them all once. And I wanted them back.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I’ll take it.”
The graying shopkeeper led me to the back counter where the
cash register was located. While he wrapped the painting I listened to his
partner, a man with a shaved, tattooed head and nose ring give instructions to
another customer.
“So, you take this 48 hours before your physical. You can’t
eat any fats or dairy products and you gotta drink at least two gallons of
water after you take it…over that 48 hours,” the tattooed man explained. “Then
you should be rid of all your “toxins” before you have to take your piss test.”
The customer nodded solemnly.
“That’s $81.19,” my helper said.
Oh, shoot. I hadn’t even asked the price.
“How much was the painting?” I asked.
“Seventy-five. With tax,” he said.
I winced. I only had
a twenty on me. Then I took Dave’s MasterCard from my purse and handed it to
him. It seemed a small price to pay for everything I wanted.
“Thanks,” I said.
“It’s my birthday present to me,” I said. “I’m 50 today.”
“Well, happy birthday to you!” the shopkeeper smiled. “You
don’t look a day over 49!”
I blushed again.
Back at home, I pulled the framed photograph of Dave and me
from the wall above my desk and hung the painting in its place.
It was just a painting to remind me of all that I desired. I
wanted to have it all again.
It was just a
painting, but it was a pretty good start.
More about Peggy:
Peggy Browning is a writer who views her life after age 50
through rose-colored bifocals. She writes about issues facing the boomer crowd
with humor and wit. She has reinvented herself many times through life’s
exciting adventures, varied jobs and diverse careers. She’s been a special
education teacher, social worker, waitress, newspaper carrier, newspaper correspondent, fruit stand owner, nurse’s
aide, janitor and writer/entrepreneur.
And that’s just a few of the jobs she’s been paid to do during her first 5
decades…Catch her musings about life after 50 on her blog at her website, http://fiftyodd.com, her opinion column and
feature news stories at http://pioneer-sentinel.com,
and blogs at http://galtime.com and http://zestnow.com. Visit her Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Fifty-Odd/327132190645107.