It’s Wednesday, so that means Harula’s Wednesday Writers’ Well. This week Harula’s assignment is:
Today’s prompt (allow about 15 mins total) is called…Magic Glasses. Imagine you had a pair of Magic Glasses. These Magic Glasses will allow you to see anything you want to see, but can’t right now. First, make a list, speedily and spontaneously, of about 10 things you would like to be able to see.
So, you have your list, which was intended to wake your imagination up. Now choose one of those things, or something else if a new idea comes to mind as you start to write…
Ten things, hm…
- My parents who are both gone.
- How our trip to the UK will go in September.
- My dad’s band rehearsal at Welcome Inn.
- A visit to Devil’s Tower, Wyoming.
- What it would be like to be Calensariel (who is SO totally opposite of me).
- How it would feel to sit on a beach below Haceta Head Lighthouse in Oregon under the stars and just listen to the waves.
- What it would feel like to stand barefoot at Stonehenge in the grass to see if you could really feel the ley lines beneath.
- What my kids’ lives are going to be like ten years from now.
- (Since this is magic) I would like to meet the poets John O’Donohue and James Kavanaugh.
- What I might have been like had I grown up and stayed in my small home town in Ohio.
Gonna have to go with #3…
I make myself comfy on the love seat in the library/office where I’m at home with all my books. I take my glasses off and replace them with Harula’s magic pair. And quick as a wink I’m sitting on a bar stool in Welcome Inn, the club where my dad and his band play on Friday and Saturday nights. I’m all of six years old. Dressed in play clothes, my long, wavy, ginger-colored hair is combed for once, and my bangs are held back by a butterfly barrette. I’m swinging my feet which can’t touch the floor, and stirring my Coke with a swizzel stick the bar keep has given me, a real treat, since we seldom ever have soda at home. Normally I wouldn’t be allowed in here, but it’s Thursday afternoon and the bar hasn’t opened yet.
After awhile Chet, the drummer, asks me if I want to play the drums. I scoot down from the stood and climb up on the stage where he sits me on his lap and hands me two brush-like sticks to play with. His big hands over mine, he’s guiding the brushes around the worn drum heads making a soft swishing sound. And as the band begins a song, I’m lost in the music.
I don’t know that I’ve ever been that happy ever. I love the people in dad’s band. Marion the piano player who always wears the most beautiful dresses, even when she doesn’t have to. She looks like a model out of my mom’s Avon magazine. Marion the sax player. Tall and skinny with a mustache, he can make that sax whine so that it nearly makes me cry. It’s my favorite instrument. Then there’s Chuck, the rhythm guitar player. He doesn’t seem to do much but strum the guitar, but I guess he’s kind of who keeps them all together. And Chet, who feels like my own grandpa. Oh! I can’t forget my dad! He’s gorgeous, with his laughing blue eyes and beautiful voice.
If I could choose one day to be a groundhog day for me (ala bill Murray), I think this just might be it! Coke, music, and the feeling that I’m making music, too. It’s in my blood…
I take the glasses off and feel a little sad that I never pursued playing an instrument when I was younger. Piano lessons at 50 just don’t cut it. But I’ve always been able to sing, so I guess I got SOMETHING from my dad..😀 What a magical afternoon that was for me, drifting off to sleep later on top all the coats piled on a booth bench. How heavenly that was to fall asleep to the music. I think that’s how I remember so many of the songs from the 40’s and 50’s… And that’s how I always see my dad when I think of him.