This isn’t an original thought. And I hope it’s a long way off.
But at the end of everything, I would be satisfied if it could be carved into my tombstone that “He wrote one or two good sentences.”
Advertisements
HemmingPlay
https://hemmingplay.wordpress.com/about/ More at the link. I remember him. He was sitting in the heat on the dock waiting for the ferry to Okracoke, Island in the Outer Banks, NC. It was probably sometime in '72 or '73. He'd driven nearly 12 hours straight and was so tired he couldn't understand the accents of the natives there. I wonder whatever happened to him? I heard a rumor that he married a skinny Irish girl and they settled down somewhere, had a couple of boys, got old. He put on a few pounds. She's still got the girlish shape that caught his eye all those years ago. He probably still has that shirt, though, and still wishes he looked like this. The idiot.
Comments are closed.
April 21, 2017 at 9:58 AM
I am shooting for a good paragraph or two. Aim for the moon, I say.
LikeLike
April 21, 2017 at 9:59 AM
Amen.
LikeLike