 |
| © spot-h / Shutterstock.com |
The
last time I saw him, he was as dead as dead could be. Struck down by
a truck in the prime of his life, laid out on the road, gone from
this life - that was my Pa. Flat as one of Ma's cakes that was not
meant to flat – well, that sure was my Pa. Now he was up and at 'em
like there was naught wrong with him. Not flat no more, nup, not him.
A true man shape is he, with length, breadth and depth. Heart goes
bump, blood it pumps and air goes in and out. My Pa, he lives!
They say you can't keep a good man down and in Pa's case I guess it is true. And he was -- 'scuse me -- IS a good man and then some. Not sure what we can tell the folks next door and the ones down the street though. Most don't look so kind on those what has rose from the dead. We get a lot of that round here. Dead come back, full of life. Don't know why. Don't care to ask. If it works, don't fix it and ain't that the truth.
They say you can't keep a good man down and in Pa's case I guess it is true. And he was -- 'scuse me -- IS a good man and then some. Not sure what we can tell the folks next door and the ones down the street though. Most don't look so kind on those what has rose from the dead. We get a lot of that round here. Dead come back, full of life. Don't know why. Don't care to ask. If it works, don't fix it and ain't that the truth.
Inspired by a prompt from Jill Badonsky in The Muse Is IN Writing Club.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.