A Whirl of Goodbye's

NOTE: I've only written poetry up until now. However, I'm attempting to branch out to bigger and better things. My first attempt at writing a story, came with the thought of writing a biography? rather than an A to Z like most, I thought maybe I could make a collection of different things taken place in my life of both good & bad. In a sense, it's kind of a reflection to help me with my own self-intervention. Perhaps it's boring and may never come to life but it is merely practice through trial & error. This is actually the 1rst piece in the collection. It's no big deal if it's not what would buy on the shelf (as I'm not certain I would want my life on display) but in your review, I ask for help with the technique and honesty about it more than anything because I want to be a better writer, period. So in order to do that, I'm here asking for your help regardless of the contents. :)

A Whirl of Goodbye's

         I remember so many details that seem like only yesterday. Funny they were, too. I recall when I was about five or maybe six. We lived on a large farm where my grandparents had a few large platform rocks in their front yard. These rocks were shaped like rectangles, where I remember a stage that came to life every day after school. I'd get out my old hairbrush, that in my young impressionable mind resembled the same circular microphones that the country music stars were using on stage. Day after day, I'd stand there with my little brown curls draping my shoulders, singing my heart out to one day find the opportunity of a lifetime.

         I had learned that all of my cousins were coming to visit from out of town. I had a hard time trying to prove myself because at the present time, I was the only grandchild that was a girl. The boys at this point, held the scoreboard at 4 to 1. They were always making fun of me. Taking sides against me. If they went to the club house, I wasn't allowed. It doesn't take Albert Einstein to figure out that I had dreamed of the spotlight, for so long. I felt the overwhelming need to prove to them just exactly what I was made of and I did just that.

         Let me paint the picture for you. My grandparents had been doing their usual spring cleaning. The back porch reached the full length of the house where there were plenty of tools, set aside for my reckless melodramatic endeavor. The backdrop, happened to be the beautiful evergreen bushes that Grandma had worked with so diligently, for years in preparation for proper maturity. Then, there were a few chairs lined up suitable for an audience and the make-believe stage calling out the name of yours truly.

         Excited, I gathered the boys around and then managed to climb my way to the top of the giant storage trunk sitting at the edge of the porch in front of the evergreens. I imagined the spotlight and the entrance introduction, just like they had on tv during the Grand Ole Opry. It was a magnificent adventure and show of courageous truth to those who proudly declared my wonderful promotion to everyone in hearing distance, that I was now officially the Princess of cooties.

         I remember it well, I was singing George Strait's hit, "Babys' Gotten Good at Goodbye." Everything was going so well. I had practiced so many times in front of Charlie, being that he was my favorite cow. So nerves were not an issue since he never flopped over and started giggling at how silly I was, back then. I remember the shock on the boys' face. They were attentively amazed at how cool I was. Never had I felt so accepted and alive. Throughout the song, I danced and done my little twirls without hesitation and with complete confidence. That last chorus however, I think I got a little too good at the goodbye part, too.

         The last chorus rolled out so smooth. I should have known better. Grandma always said, "Don't count your chickens before they hatch." Did I listen? Absolutely not, no I continued right on dancing and singing.. "That's why I'm sittin' on the front steps, starin' down the road, wonderin' if she'll come back, for this time I don't know. After she packed, when she looked back, there were no tears in her eyes. That's got me worried, thinkin' maybe my baby's gotten good at good...". There I was, one last whirl and I would've had it. The redemption and independence I'd eagerly wanted.

         However, my right to be went flying right out the window, about the same time I lost my balance in the middle of goodbye and flew backwards into the bushes. On the way down through the branches, I remember, it hurt like hell and after landing it took a second to regain my sense of being or should I say, consciousness. Tears flowed effortlessly from my eyes as the boys of course were dying of laughter, they scurried to save me before Grandma found out about her bushes. Yes! You figured it right! It was the first step towards my psychological meltdown. I went from being the already embarrassing "Princess" to the "Almighty Queen" of cooties!