“You could do surgery on my kitchen floor,” she said.
At dinner, I accidentally spilled my glass.
Mom got up and walked slowly around the table, spilling the other seven glasses—64 ounces of icy cold milk. It wet my jeans, ran down my legs, filled up my Sear’s Jeepers.
Jim is a versatile and experienced writer and editor of nonfiction and creative nonfiction works. He blogs about and has published articles about green home building and renovation, energy, the environment, and Climate Change. He has also published articles on science and spirituality, personal essays, and poetry. Jim lives in Walnut Creek, California, with his partner and their Labradoodle, who is out of work as a therapy dog for hospice patients due to COVID-19.
That’s a lot of spilled milk, was there any crying?
Actually, there was very little of any emotion. She had a phobia about spilled milk and managed to work it out that night.
sharp – sudden – surprising – liked it (I have to admit that I had to go look up Sear’s Jeepers and do an image search – I love when a story pushes me that way)
Great job, Jim! What an image you painted in so few words.
My mom made me eat a huge bag of m and m’s after I snuck some of her stash.
Just a lovely story. So well told. Icy cold says so much.