Trifextra: I Hate Him Haiku

"I hate him! I DO!!!

He teases and steals my lunch."

"Because he likes you."

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Write a haiku say the wonderful editors at Trifecta.

Trifecta: The Set-Up

It was 7:30 on Saturday morning.

"Wake up, darling. It's time to get going," mom singsonged lightly.

She would visit his room next.

It was akin to razzing ornery, hibernating bear cubs she'd tell us later. I was eight or nine and my baby brother was only a year younger.

And so it went.

Week after week. Fall through spring. Year in and year out.

The children of our quiet little tree-canopied street were packed up.

Standing side by side, peeking through the picture window drapery, we waited for a blurry-eyed, pajama clad carpool parent to whisk us away in the early morning chill. My bag protecting a baby blue, marbleized ball on the floor next to me, with one hand I nibbled a brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart. Money clutched tightly in the other. 

Shoes were fitted; lights illuminated the glossy hardwood lanes of Elmhurst Bowl at precisely 8:30. Pizza was delivered promptly at 10:30 and pitchers of Coke were regularly replenished throughout the morning. We bowled three games every week.

We argued over the scorer's table. Everyone wanting to. Hand scoring improving our burgeoning math skills.

Spares, strikes, two strikes in a row!

Afterwards if we were lucky, they'd let us walk next-door to the Roller Rink and skate (to David Cassidy), order fries and play pinball for an hour. Staying even longer was no problem. All we had to do was ask. Our jean pockets were always filled with enough change for the pay phone.

Childhood bliss! A kid's dream come true! And EVERY week!

Stumbling back home after 1:00, we only wanted to lie down. We were docile, completely worn out and perfectly perfect children again. 

It never occurred to me at the time, of course. I didn't have that "Oprah" moment until I was an experienced grade school parent myself. 

The whole darn thing was a set up. They were always still in their pajamas. Coffee cups in hand. Big, bright smiles on their faces when we arrived home. Too tired to give them anything resembling a fuss.

I've come to view it this way. Bowling is a lifelong skill. And I CAN still roll a turkey on more than a few occasions.

The word this week at  iwww.trifectawritingchallenge.com is turkey, the 3rd definition, of course.

Ugly Monsters

"What'll it be tonight, pal?"

"Ugly monsters!"

"You know..."

"Pweety please, Mommy?"

I tell him anyway 

never able to resist that

Sugar-plum face. 

Smiling secretly,

hoping

He'll sneak under my covers that night.

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For www.Trifectawritingchallenge 33 words about bedtime stories. Rest up, ladies!

Trifecta: Last Night's Dream

I drifted through the caverns of a warm and cozy, under soft down, deep sleep place, and floated off.

I couldn’t hear the snap of cotton drapery signaling nighttime’s drop in temperature and autumn’s approach.

The ceiling fan blew chills like a bellow eliciting goose bumps on my uncovered skin.

Curled on my side, I began to creep over. Inching until I felt a warm line down the center of my back.

The contact of bare arm against body was all it took.

I remember breathing deeply and acknowledging comfort’s return and swimming away.

But then you spoke.

And I didn’t expect your voice.

My ears strained to hear you. My mind couldn’t grasp your words. My head was reeling.

“What did you say?”

Rolling over onto my back, I waited for your answer.

When no words came, I started to wake up.

Really wake up.

My fingers groped for the spot where your voice came from.

And the sheets were cold.

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This was written for Trifecta. The word is:

 GRASP (verb)

 1

: to take or seize eagerly

2

: to clasp or embrace especially with the fingers or arms

3

: to lay hold of with the mind : comprehend

Remember:

•               Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. 

•               You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. 

•               The word itself needs to be included in your response. 

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