Part V: Daddy oils the door

Photo by Steven Cutler via Redshot

I wake up to the squeak-squeak sounds of the back door swinging open, then closing. It prompts me to shoot from my bed, slip on my house shoes, and chase after the sound. It’s Daddy. He’s squirting WD-40 on the hinges of our door. He’s standing there, eyes fixed on each hinge, leaning into the sound as he moves the door back and forth. I shake my head. Daddy always has some sort of little project going on. He looks the door over, gives the hinges one more good spritz, then wipes the slippery trickle away from the panel.

He spots me watching him work. I smile and wave “Good morning” to him before finding my spot in the bay window to do some reading. Mama will be up before long and I have another request for breakfast; strawberry waffles and scrambled eggs. Yummy! I can almost taste every morsel as I daydream about it. Daddy looks over in my direction and greets me.

“Hey there, Sweetpea. What you know good?”

Daddy is a simple man with many dreams. I love when he calls me Sweetpea. I like sweets. I like peas too. He smiles a full smile and circles our kitchen sink before washing his hands. I answer his question after the water stops.

“Oh, nothing. Just waking up. I heard the door in my room. How old is this place, Daddy?”

He sits with the question for a minute or two — almost like he’s nursing the answer before sharing it with me. I watch him stumble over a way of explaining something like this to me — his eleven-year-old daughter. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, then he nods in my direction before speaking.

“Twelve years. The realtor said the family before us found a bigger place in Richmond Hill, Georgia. They wanted to sell as soon as they could and since I got the new position with H.R., this was the perfect find. I’m sure we’ll discover a couple of spots in this house that need some tender love and care as we make a life here in it.”

I can hear Mama’s house shoes skip-shuffle-skip down the hallway. She’s not a “morning person” like me and Daddy. Daddy races to put the coffee pot on. He sets up our plates and puts away the clean dishes in the dishwasher. They have an agreement; they’ve always had this agreement since before I was born. Mama cooks, Daddy makes the coffee and washes the dishes, or runs the dishwasher. Mama also does the laundry, fixes my hair, irons my clothes, and any other task Daddy doesn’t usually do. Daddy also keeps up the lawn, washes their car and truck, and gasses up the vehicles too. They manage okay, I think.

Mama’s voice is a soft yet stern one. She doesn’t use much of her voice when speaking. It’s as if she saves it for something else — something bigger. She gets on to Daddy about the squeaky door.

“Paulie, was that you I heard messing with the door this morning, or was I dreaming? I’m almost certain I wasn’t dreaming.”

“You’d be right, my love. It was me. The hinges of the back door had been squeaking, so I put a little WD on them. Worked like a charm.”

Mama smiles lightly, but there’s a hint of wonder within her smile too — like she’s waiting for Daddy to say something else, something that will stir up concern. She looks at me and blows me a kiss. I catch it and blow one back to her.

“Hey, baby. What’s for breakfast?”

Ooh! I’ve been waiting for her to ask me what I want for breakfast and I am so happy to respond. “I’d like strawberry waffles and some scrambled eggs, please!”

Mama prepares everything and signals me over to help her cook. I crack the eggs into a bowl, add a little salt, pepper, and parsley, and whisk them quickly with a fork just like she taught me. I take the shredded cheese out of the fridge and add 1/3 cup to the eggs. Mama watches me as I whisk them up once again. I place the bowl near her on the counter and wait.

Daddy checks the back door once more. He is what Mama says, “incredibly thorough.” I don’t hear the squeak-squeak anymore. “The door is saved!” I shout this to no one in particular and to all of us, I guess. Mama giggles. Daddy laughs with his whole belly. And I . . . Well, I find my spot again in the bay window and wait for breakfast.

I sure am hungry.

Originally published in The Weekly Knob via Medium.

Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.

Writers: A Challenge

Something New “In five words”

Photo by Pixabay via Pexels

Although I didn’t envision things taking place the way they are currently shaping in my life, I’m moving with the flow. After researching and bonding with my good friend Google, for three weeks, regarding apartments, I’ve found the place in which Jernee and I will spend the next two to three years. The search is over and I am relieved.

Not only will this be our new space, it’s on a totally different side of town but keeps me close to both Highway 421 and I-40 — two major connectors of travel to various places within Winston-Salem, NC, and outside of the city also. I am content. I am relieved. I dislike apartment hunting with a passion.

So, writers . . . what’s new in your world? Aside from the raging virus, I will now call “Headache of a Lifetime”, is anything fun taking place for you? Have you started a new career? Finally, launched your own business? What’s new in your world?!

Please share with us, but use five words only

Here’s mine:

new home found,
finally . . . relieved.

Writers, tell me what’s new in your world, but do so using only five words. You can do this! Bring that creative goodness to the building, people!

Feel good music? Yes, please. Suzanne Vega, Tom’s Diner


Originally shared via Medium.

Writers: A Challenge

Body Art: Yea or Nay “In Five Words”

#6 . . . Lotus tattoo, left wrist. Why? Because I always feel like my best self when I come out of the muck. Photo Credit: Nick, the artist at Art Attack in Winston-Salem, NC.

Some may love it. Some may hate it. Some are indifferent. Others probably just don’t care. What say you? Tell me your opinion on body art of any form. Do you have tattoos or multiple piercings or unique piercings or brandings of any kind? No? Let’s hear why.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion (of course), let’s be respectful, though . . . and creative.

Here’s mine:

Six unique pieces;
body museum.

Now, it’s your turn. Tell me what you love, like, dislike, or are often intrigued by regarding body art but using just five words.

Writers, please bring it!

You knew there’d be music. SNAP! The Power


Originally shared via Medium.

Writers: A Challenge

“Summertime” in Three Words

Something new this year; a filled pool, ready for swimmers. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

For us here in the United States of America, it’s summertime and in various states within this nation, temperatures are on the rise. Summertime, although a season I’d rather do without, gifts us with a ton of fun to be had.

When summer comes to your area/country, what do you like to do most? What do you love most about summer? What do you hate most about it? Please share your thoughts on summer using three words only.

Here’s mine:

traveling without

I truly miss doing the above and I hope one day soon, I’ll be able to get back to my travels without worry and wonder and being far too concerned with rising Coronavirus cases, but mostly — I just want the world to be safe again from this virus. Writers, you are a creative bunch and I’d love to see what you can do with this topic using three words only. So, the challenge? Tell me about your summer experiences; likes & dislikes in just three words.

Let’s have some fun and please, bring it!

Music? Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince, Summertime:

Writers: A Challenge

“Loyalty” in three words

The love of my life: Jernee Timid Loadholt. Photo Collage Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

It is one of the qualities I find most important in the people I allow in my circle: loyalty. If you are not able to support me or stand by my side when hard times arise — we may not last as friends. And in turn, I should be able to do the same for you — be there, support you, lift you up when you’re feeling down, and help you in any way that I can. I don’t have to ask of these things from Jernee. She is my full support system and live-in love magnet. If ever I fall into a fit of tears, my girl is always right there to press against me, cuddle, and paw at my tears. I get from her what I need — I always hope she’s getting from me what she needs.

So, the challenge? Express loyalty using three words only. What does loyalty mean to you? Is it important? Was anyone ever disloyal in your life — how’d that affect you? 

Here’s mine:

undeniable . . .
true love.

Writers: let’s get creative, shall we? Express loyalty using just three words. You can do this! I know you can.

Please, bring it!

And of course, there’s music. The Brothers Johnson, I’ll Be Good to You


Originally shared via Medium.