The latest contribution from Rose City Writers, this week from FLEUR LIND…
Check out more short stories at Fleur Lind’s website – fleursfabulousfables.wordpress.com
ODD SOCKS
Poppa Don had a list as long as your arm of his favourite things. If he were to launch into a verse or two of the legendary song by Julie Andrews, he would have to sing twice as many verses to cover all the things he considered to be his favourites.
One such favourite thing was any time spent with his young great grandson, Dan. If he had been told once, he had been told a thousand times by his darling wife of over 60 years, life partner, best friend, and maker of the best pikelets on the planet, and known to the numerous offspring as Nanna Elsie, said he wasn’t supposed to have favourites, but Don thought Dan was pretty close to being one. It wasn’t favouritism as such, he loved all his grandchildren and great grandies, equally, but sometimes a strength shone through in one of their characters that made Don’s eyes sparkle even brighter. Don was an immensely proud grand and great grandparent, but where Dan was concerned, he could not help himself. And as Dan was the only child of his oldest Granddaughter, Erin, he didn’t have siblings to compete with for airtime with either great grandparent.
Dan had called around one warm afternoon after a day packed with exams at high school to see his beloved ‘old’s’ and pick some mandarins from their tree.
While sitting in the cool shade of the veranda, peeling his 3rd mandarin, Dan asked a big ‘life question’.
“What’s the secret to a long happy marriage, Poppa Don?”
“Cripes, mate! You’re not thinking of getting hitched, are you? You’re just a boy!”
“Hell no! It’s my girlfriend. Her moods change fast. I figured you’d know what to do because you and Nanna Elsie are so happy.”
Don was thoughtful as he rubbed his chin. “That’s easy. Think of girls like socks.”
“Uh? Socks?” Dan squinted with confusion. “Don’t go losing the plot on me, Poppa Don!”
“No, my plots good. Socks. Women are like socks. See, it’s like this. It all depends on which way the wind’s blowing. Like a windsock. Over the years you get to read them like a book. Sometimes you bear down for a storm, other times, it’s there might be a gentle breeze or it’s calm and pleasant. Easy.”
“Socks,” Dan rolled his eyes and peeled another mandarin, feeling none the wiser. “Okay then,” he sighed.
“Then there are the odd ones. Odd socks, I mean. Where the wind’s blowing in opposite directions. They’re a bit of work, and no mistake.”
“I think that’s what I’ve got. She’s just like a pair of odd ones.”
“I’m hearing you, mate. Stick with it though, the storm will pass. Take her some mandarins. That’ll help, for sure.”
“Is that what won over Nanna Elsie? Your mandarins?”
“Yep, she’s just as sweet, pips and all.”
Dan grinned, Don smiled his smile. In a complicated, confusing world, Don and Dan were a force to be reckoned with, regardless of the wind direction.
