Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SPRING (09/03/20)
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TITLE: Second Hand Regrets | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
09/07/20 -
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Being an earth hugger, my hubby thought nothing of roping us into a cheap deal with a fixer-upper held together with mould and dirt.
During the winter, when our heat cranked up, dust clogged me solid. I suck through three packs of throat lozenges a day so I don’t scare off my kids with coughing fits.
“We should get the furnace and ducts serviced,” I said.
“Open the windows,” he said.
“I’m allergic to icicles,” I said.
By February, the elm, hickory, pecan and walnut trees he nurtured left me with watery eyes, sneezing and nasal congestion. I tried emptying our underground larder and tantalizing our community with pecan, walnut and apple pies. Our old mattress had a coil in it that bit my back like a cobra sometime after midnight every day. There was only one way to fix that spring.
“I’m thinking we need a new mattress,” I said.
“Why don’t you just flip it or rotate it,” he said.
“Maybe we should let you sleep on my side,” I said.
“Maybe you should charge more for those pies,” he said.
The March grasses sent the pollen count so high this past year that the National Allergy Bureau of the American Academy of Allergy Asthma and Immunology left the scale on extreme all month long. Everyone and their skunk seemed to need their gardens fixed up while mine vied for the blue ribbon in King Kong weeds.
“We should blacktop the yard and put everything in pots,” I suggested.
“Wear a mask,” he said.
“How am I going to kiss you,” I asked.
“Save it for inside,” he answered.
The April splash of color everywhere brought smiles to everyone else and tears to me. When people talked about “blooming” flowers I emphasized the phrase a little differently. The rains helped my husband’s boots track more mud into the backroom and my kids managed to get it from there into the rest of the house where it helped hold the floorboards together.
“Maybe we should leave your boots outside,” I said.
“What? They’ll fill up with rain,” he said.
“At least the house would be cleaner,” I said.
“That coil spring kept you up again last night, didn’t it?” he said.
May unleashed the final flurry of cottonwood and whatever other hideous pollens sat waiting to ambush us like Ninjas. I was nearly crawling like my youngest and the kids thought it was a hoot that they could jump on me and ride me like a donkey. I understood why people moved to the prairies and lived in igloos for half a year then baked like toast for the other half. At least they could breathe. Our third year of survival brought a brainwave.
“I think we should move,” I said. “I might be pregnant again and I think we need a bigger place in a city on the prairies.”
“What? We’re hardly settled and I’ve never been busier,” he said. “Besides, it would be way too expensive for us to move into the city.”
“I was reading in my Bible and wondered if we’ve been like Jonah running from our destiny. Maybe we could pray about it,” I suggested.
“Pray? We like our church, we like our community, we like our work. Why would we want to go somewhere else?”
“Perhaps there might be a mattress without a cobra spring in it,” I said.
“Are you still going on about that spring?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” I said. “I’m just about ready to get my degree in acupuncture from all the pokes in my body.”
He took me to our room and lay down on my side of the bed. In a moment he was up again. “Hey, how in the world do you sleep over here?” he asked.
“I’ve been telling you for ages that this spring is killing me,” I said.
He nodded sagely as he picked up the mattress. “And all this time I thought it was the flowers that were making you so miserable,” he said. “Now, I’ll get one new bed for you and set up another new bed of flowers for me. We’ll both be happy.”
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