500 Words Plus A Sentence, And One More After That

No self-imposed word count this week kids, as the conversation required much more breathing space than that.

Here is week # 8’s submission for Master Class 2013, who’s twist involved two prompts* being used, one at the start, and the other at the end.

As always, I hope you enjoy.


The past cannot be cured.

“That’s how you always lived dad, but that was on you, not me. And definitely not him.”

“I’m only saying, some day he’ll look back on the days of tramping around the house in your wife’s high heels, pretending to be a drag queen, and he’ll be mortified. He’s my grandson – I don’t want him to live in shame.”

“Now why would he feel like that dad? Again, please don’t attribute ‘your thing’ onto his life. You were the one who could never let go of your past, never feel good about who you were naturally. He’s a totally different being, a being of Light versus darkness. You and I, we’re the opposite of him. And dad, our family has had more than its fair share of our ilk, don’t you agree? Let’s give his approach a try for a spell, shall we?”

“You’re not listening to me. And you’re once again trying to fill the conversation with a whole bunch of flouncey words that don’t really mean anything.”

“Slew, dad.”


“Slew. I would have chosen ‘slew’ over ‘whole bunch,’ dad.”

“Whatever, smartass. Listen, it’s a sin, OK?”

“No dad, it’s not OK. You see, I don’t recall anywhere in the Bible where Jesus busted on any of that. He DID, however, tell people not to judge others. He also told us to love each other, and He told us to live by His example, not Rome’s. No dad, there are all sorts of sins in this world, but my son’s orientation isn’t one of them, and it upsets me that you would feel that way.”

“But do you think I would actually feel that way? I mean, if I were alive to be there? If you recall, I was the one who bought him the Baby Doll he wanted. Do you think I would now choose my ideology over his? Would I choose myself over him?”

“I don’t know dad. I would hope not. I would hope that – like so many other times in your life – you would eventually change your mind for the love of your family, begrudgingly at first, and then in full-out abandon, to the point of being a public embarrassment. You know, like you usually did.”

“Hmmm, most likely. As we’ll never have this conversation, I suppose we’ll never really find out. Hey, are you going to tell your mother?”

“Are you insane????

“Heh, I didn’t think so.”

“Dad, do you think I’ll handle this correctly? I really don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Listen to that girl, what your friend Mary said – you won’t. You don’t give yourself enough credit, son. You’re much more a being of light than darkness yourself, you know. I’ve told you, you’re a good father. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks dad.

Dad, I miss you.”

“I miss you too Troy. And I’ll be right here, waiting for you when you come over. But not just yet, not until many years from now, when you have entered the winter of your life.


A note concerning today’s tune. It doesn’t have a direct link to the above per say, other than the fact that it is the song that has been stuck inside the heads of both myself and my beautiful, heel-hoofing darling boy as of late.

Don’t listen, unless you want it getting stuck in your head as well…

* The first quote was from “Shadow of the Night” by Deborah Harkness. The second, from “Winter Journal” by Paul Auster.

24 thoughts on “500 Words Plus A Sentence, And One More After That

  1. This is so well done that I felt like I was intruding on a private moment. The pacing is fabulous throughout the piece too, and your ability to pepper the dialogue to bring the atmosphere to life was a refreshing change too. My only problem with this is that I want more.

    • Sorry, but rest assured, you weren’t the only one streak-eyed. There are sections I still can’t get through. I’m so glad you enjoyed it =)

  2. Wonderful, these conversations we can have with loved ones after they are gone. It’s as if they are still around, for a brief moment. This was very poignant and beautiful.

  3. It’s amazing how clear and rich the conversations can be when someone is gone. I talk to my grandparents a lot. I wish I could have been more loquacious with the ones I lost when they were with me.

    I love the dialogue. This is some of your best work, T.

    • Much thanks Lance, and this is one of those conversations I wish the man could have stuck around for.
      I’m very proud of my son’s ability to be i-tune with himself, and would do my heart good to know that dad felt the same. I think maybe he does.

  4. I love it that we don’t find out until the middle that the conversation is one-sided. But what a great conversation it is. I also love the vocabulary part – very nice touch!

    • Thanks Steph – it was a thing dad and I had. He would always try hard to pontificate, and I would always try equally as hard to knock him from his lectern, mid-speech =)

  5. My dad is gone and yet I talk to him constantly. I see a tie, smell a cologne, hear a song and there he is in my heart and mind all over again.

    I look at Jacob and know that his journey might be a different one from Gio’s …more creative, possibly with boys and not girls and I wish I could see my dad’s reaction to this. My dad was metrosexual before it was cool and accepted, he dressed nicely, he primped and smelled good, he loved a good musical and was a GREEN BERET, he was the the meaning of well rounded to me. Of course he was violent and scary some times too…and I don’t wish my sons to ever see that…that rage that lived inside him.

    I love how you write about your dad, I hug you virtually every time you do.

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