Musical Choices

I’m a bit late, but here’s my response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt

The Jamboree and the Funeral

“Why’s all this traffic on the road this morning?”

“Big country music jamboree near Regina. Starts at noon, every first of August.”

“Fast food places will be packed. Hope we can find a table when we’re ready to stop.”

“Feels funny, you know. All these folks heading for a party and we’re going to say our last goodbye to dear Aunt May. Solemn music, tears and tissues.”

Two hours later, as the funeral started, they were surprised to hear Garth Brooks singing “If Tomorrow Never Comes.”

Note/Confession:
Funeral music has changed a lot, I thought as we listened to “Born To Be Wild” at the end of the service for my brother-in-law. Which gave me the idea for this story, but Google had to help me with this one. I’ve never heard this song, but read the words and it looked like something that might fly at a funeral — the general theme being, “Say those loving words today to the people you love, in case this is your last chance and tomorrow never comes.”

There is an annual Country music Jamboree every year at Craven a small town not far from Regina, SK. At least there was before COVID hit.

Forgiving & Forgetting

This morning I had the urge to write a story, so here’s my response to the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today and yesterday together. Today’s prompt is FLASHBACK and yesterday’s word was LUCKY.

OH, THOSE PAINFUL FLASHBACKS

“Why are you sighing, Nish,” her friend asked as they walked through the shopping mall.

“Flashback,” Nichina replied. “I saw a t-shirt in that store window and it reminded me the time I met Sue here. She was wearing a t-shirt that color and I said something about it.”

“Oh-oh. Didn’t go over?”

She’s rather pale and that mustard yellow looked awful on her! And here she was, showing off this designer tee she’d paid big bucks for. I should have kept quiet, but you know how it is sometimes, you just blurt out your thoughts. You think she should know… She got really upset and didn’t speak to me for weeks, even when I said I was sorry.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t lie and say it looked great, but I wish I’d never said anything.”

Kareen nodded in sympathy. “Yeah. When to tell the truth can be a really tricky question, because the other person may not be very willing to hear it.”

“You said it!”

“And besides, it’s only your take on the matter. But those things happen. I’ve said things – and done things, too – that I was really sorry for after. But I make a mental note to not do that again and then I just put them out of my head and the incident never comes to mind again. Or if it does, I boot it out.” She grinned.

“You’re lucky! I see something that triggers a flashback, reminds me of one of my said-or-did bloopers, and I feel bad all over again. Why didn’t I think?”

“And what does that do?”

Nishina stopped and regarded her friend thoughtfully. “I guess those flashbacks tend to make me feel like a failure at life.”

“And you’re not,” Kareen assured her. “I’ve heard you and I know there are many times when you’ve said just the right thing. Don’t let that nagging little voice lie to you. Boot it out. You know, say, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan.’

“I’ll try to remember that.” Nishina admired Kareen’s easy-going approach. Would she ever find it that easy to forgive and forget her bloopers?

Image from Pixabay.

Happy Returns?

It’s Monday morning again — the return of the workday week. And I’m back with another belated blog post. This is in response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt, and I’m giving you two for one. the first I wrote last night — when it still was the weekend –and the second this morning, when I decided on something more upbeat. You can tell me which you like best.

Back to Square One?

I think, Ramon, we’d better return to our former relationship.

I don’t get it. Like “just friends”?

Like “total strangers.”

So…like…you don’t want to marry me after all?

Got it!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Some, more ready to trust, alight
as soon as I’ve walked away;
some timid, slower to return.
Still, a rousing chorus
greets me when I appear
with my bag of birdseed.

Image by Gordon Johnson — Pixabay