in pieces

“How many tries will it take Typist to put the pen back together?” The Muse of Determination took pleasure in tickling the weak links… mechanics are not Typist’s forte.

“Only two!” Calliope clapped her hands. “Something went wrong on the first try. The plunger wouldn’t plunge.”

Thalia pick up the pen and click, click, clicked the tube of ink up and down. “Works now!”

“Are we writing fiction today?” Calliope whined.

“Yes,” Nia replied. “There is no improvement without effort. And… whining doesn’t help Cal. You know that.”

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Michael hummed Simon and Garfunkel’s slow down, you move too fast… you’ve got to make the moment last as he pulled t-shirts from his dresser. His wife had been on his case for months. When she put away the week’s laundry and slid the drawers back into their slots, fabric snagged on the drawer above and bulged through the cracks.

One Saturday morning when the nagging felt like chewing on aluminum foil — Michael paused. Why did he feel so angry? Perhaps Jamie had a point? What did he need all of those shirts for?

Below the first layer of workout shirts and lightweight tees Michael started to get to the heart of the matter. Every shirt in the drawer carried a memory. There were team logos and concert tour dates — charity 5Ks and cartoon characters.

Jamie climbed the stairs and stopped at the door when she saw what Michael was doing. She considered sneaking back down to the kitchen on tiptoe. She didn’t want to start the weekend with a fight. Instead she asked, “A lot of memories, huh? How’s it going?”

“Some good, some bad,” he replied. “There’s a lot here to think about… easier to keep stuffing and smooshing, but I suspect we’ll both feel a lot better if I keep working my way through.”