Overcoming Bloglessness

Puff, The Magic Dragon

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Daily Prompt: Always Something There to Remind Me.

A song comes on the radio and instantly, you’re transported to a different time and place. Which song(s) bring back memories for you and why? Be sure to mention the song, and describe the memory it evokes.  Photographers, artists, poets: show us PAST.

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Puff the Magic Dragon

I spent the night next door, at Melody’s house whenever she babysat me.  We usually slept in her mom’s double bed, since her mom worked nights.

We were looking at Mad magazines, hanging our heads off the foot of the bed when Puff came on the radio.  As soon as we heard the first notes we  squealed simultaneously and threw ourselves back up to the head of the bed, closer to the radio which Melody turned up loud.   Puff the Magic Dragon was our favorite song.

After we’d fallen asleep Melody’s older brother Richard came in and scooped me up out of bed.  “Do you want to sleep in my room now, in the bunk beds?”  Well, you bet I did!  I’d never slept in bunk beds.

I wanted the top bunk, but Richard said we had to share the bottom bunk because I might fall off the top.  He turned off the light and we spooned in the bottom bunk.

It was cozy, cuddling like that, but I was uncomfortable, unused to this kind of attention from Richard who usually shooed me away.

I laid still and tried to fall to sleep, but I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling, pressed up against my backside, between me and Richard.   Was it a toy?    I couldn’t imagine what kind of toy would feel like that.

Then I felt something wet and  I wondered if he’d wet the bed, just a little.

He sent me away after that, back to sleep with Melody in her mom’s bed.


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Daily Prompt: Memories For Sale, Sentimental, or Just Plain Mental?

Daily Prompt: Memories For Sale.37479_1340262390631_4098050_n

On a weekend road trip, far away from home, you stumble upon a garage sale in a neighborhood you’re passing through. Astonished, you find an object among the belongings for sale that you recognize. Tell us about it.

Photographers, share an image that says MEMORY.

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I should not have gone off the meds.   I don’t know what set me off,  why, all of a sudden it’s happening again.  I hadn’t stopped at a yard sale in months.

Where am I going to put all this stuff?  I could rent a small storage unit on my way home.  But how to explain the money I took out of savings to buy it all?  He’s going to find out  eventually.  I might as well fess up right away.

I can imagine his reaction.  We’re retired you know, we can’t afford to be spending money on this crap!  Can’t you see you’ve got a problem?  You’re a hoarder!

But really, six-hundred was a good deal, for everything at the sale.  The seller was kind enough to help me load it all in the mini-van.  What didn’t fit inside, we tied to the top.

He won’t believe me when I tell him  I recognized everything at that yard sale!   Everything!  It was weird.  Not only did I find Mother’s entire collection of ceramic cats but the very shelf they sat on!  I know they’re Mother’s cats by the chip on the tabby’s paw.   I found her state plates too, all fifty of them, the date penned on the back in Mother’s hand.  I 37479_1340262190626_412049_ngot the carved ivory Chinese woman, with one hand missing, just as I remembered her, and  the little round music box that plays Stardust, that used to sit on Grandma’s dresser.

There’s stuff for him too; Dad’s tackle box and the in-laid wood chessboard he made.  The green naughahyde swivel-rocker is in bad shape, but we could put it on the porch, until I get around to re-upholstering it.

I found my baby shoes and my sister’s baby shoes, and Nancy, my old dolly.  My little blue stroller was there, my rusted, red trike, even the old playpen with my toothmarks on the top rail.  I remember pinching my hand in it’s wooden floorboards.  I wouldn’t dream of putting a kid in there, but it would be perfect for a puppy, if we ever get a puppy.

He won’t understand.  He’s not a bit sentimental.  He’ll tell me I’m frikken nuts.  He thinks I just imagine these things came from my childhood, that I make stories up in order to justify the purchase.
But I’m telling you, I know these things.  They speak to me.  I remember them like old friends.  I know their history.    If I leave them behind, they lose provenance.   If I leave them behind, I lose part of my childhood.?????