Month: January 2022

TWO DAYS TO WAIT

The Sicilian Storyteller

She sat at her indestructible Singer factory sewing machine, hands flying like an octopus knitting a scarf.  

I peeked around the corner into her sewing room. Without lifting her head, she sensed my presence. “What is it, principessa?” she asked.

“Can we go to Post Arrow?” The little family diner with a few kiddie rides was one of my favorite places to go. We’d get pastrami sandwiches, fries and ride the bumper cars, Ferris wheel and carousel – heaven on earth for an 8-year-old kid.

Without missing a stitch, my mother replied “Cara, can’t you see how much work I have left to do? Besides, dinner is already in the oven.”

I stood on the threshold saying nothing. My mother knew I was there but kept sewing at warp speed. When she looked up, she saw my red, swollen eyes and tear-stained face. Her usual stern expression softened a bit. “If I finish my work maybe we will go on Saturday” and she returned to the task at hand.

I drew a big red circle around Saturday on my calendar. Two days to wait.

First thing on Saturday I asked my mother about going to Post Arrow. Again she said “maybe”; she had to deliver her finished projects to the shop first.

Hours went by. I kept vigil at the window until my mother returned. She looked up at me and grinning, motioned me to come down.

“Andiamo, cara! Go get your daddy. Now we have some fun!”

NAR © 2022

ENTER SANDMAN

The Sicilian Storyteller

I freely admit I enjoy a good nap
The ones that overtake me so easily
Slip-sliding away in Morpheus’ lap
Asleep like a babe oh so peacefully

Sometimes I feel my eyes closing
I’m aware of the droop of my chin
There’s no harm in a wee bit of dozing
It’s no big deal and I freely give in

I can doze off at the drop of a hat
While watching TV or having a read
I stretch and purr like a contented cat
And it didn’t take any Xanax or weed

I fall asleep in the usual places
In church, on a plane or a bus
Staring at all the other yawning faces
It happens to every last one of us

I fall asleep on a massage bed
Or while getting a spa pedicure
Transported someplace out of my head
Where everything’s blissful and sure

I’d nod off in math class when I was a teen
Something that’s frowned on in school
I’d sit in the back and was never once seen
Algebra was so boring and I was too cool

One day I fell asleep at the seashore
When I awoke I was red as a beet
In all of my life I was never so sore
Couldn’t even cover myself with a sheet

Then came the days of pulling all-nighters
I’d party till dawn and then crash
Drawn to the lovers, the dreamers and writers
Trying my best not to do something rash

Up all night meant sleeping all day
My life became quite a mixed jumble
If you want to dance, the piper you pay
Either slow down or stumble and tumble

Falling in love is like falling asleep
Sometimes taking you quite by surprise
Along came a guy and I fell really deep
Married and pregnant in the blink of an eye

A baby in the house requires much work
Feeding and bathing and cleaning up poo
I am many things but I am no jerk
When my baby had a nap I did too

Having children brings so many joys
You love them with your whole heart
It matters not whether girlies or boys
Your worries begin right from the start

Children are little for only so long
The teen years come round awfully fast
I cannot sleep; could something be wrong?
They’re out and their curfew has past

The kids are no more, they’re all fully grown
And you’re proud that you did your best
They’re happily married with kids of their own
And you think now it’s your time to rest

Sorry but it really doesn’t work that way
You’ve been blessed with a couple of grands
Your kids are so busy with work every day
And the care of their babes is now in your hands

It’s not bad at all if you just use your head
When the grand-babies nap so do you
At night you sleep peacefully tucked in your bed
Cos you’ve done the best job you could do

NAR © 2022

SEE ME, FEEL ME

The Sicilian Storyteller

My husband Sam and I were hosting our usual Friday night dinner with friends, something we’ve been doing for several years. Sam is a psychology professor at NYU and I manage Dahlia’s, an eponymously named floral shop.

Our weekly dinner companions are Claude and his wife Piper who own a small eclectic bookstore called The Paper Trail and Austin and Rebecca who have been engaged for seven years. Rebecca is a music teacher at a private school in Manhattan and Austin is a graphic designer. We keep asking them “When’s the big day?” but neither one seems to be in a rush.

Our dinner conversations are always lively, touching on a variety of topics. This particular evening, Sam said “I asked my class this question today: ‘If you had to choose between being deaf or being blind, which would you choose?’ Now, my friends, I’d like to know how you would answer that question.” My husband – ever the provocateur! Perhaps that’s what I find so stimulating about him.

Well, no big surprise, no one said anything for a moment; this was a profound question. I finally decided to break the ice by responding. “For me, as a florist, I would have to say I’d choose to be deaf. I need to see the arrangements I’m creating, which color flowers go well together, the best bouquets to match bridesmaid’s dresses, even something as simple as placing flowers in the right vase. I wouldn’t have to hear the bell on the shop’s front door or the telephone ring; both can be hooked up to a light to get my attention. And customers could always email or text me with their orders. Why, I could even communicate with my customers via tablets in the shop. I’d still be able to see and smell all the beautiful flowers, meet my customer’s expectations and take pride in my creations.”

Spurred on by my answer, Austin chimed in. “Exactly! I totally agree with Dahlia. In the field of graphic design, I would be incapable of working without the ability to see. These days there are so many electronic devices we can use to communicate; I don’t think being deaf would interfere with my life or my work at all.”

Immediately Rebecca countered what we said. “I get where the two of you are coming from but I could never teach music if I were deaf. I’d be able to place my fingers on the correct piano keys or strum the right strings on a guitar because I’ve been making music all my life. It’s second nature to me. But I wouldn’t want to exist without the sound of music, to hear my students playing, to correct their mistakes or praise their achievements. It would be impossible for me to conduct an orchestra, not knowing if the violins should be a little louder or the bassoons pianissimo. Austin, if you were deaf, you wouldn’t hear the wedding march when I walk down the aisle or hear me say the words ‘I do’.”

Austin was quick to reply. “As long as I could see your radiant face in your gorgeous wedding gown carrying the beautiful bouquet designed by Dahlia, that’s all that would matter. And as far as hearing you say ‘I do’, I would read your luscious lips before tenderly kissing my new bride.”

We all laughed as Sam exclaimed “Nice save, Austin! Claude and Piper, we’ve yet to hear from you. What’s your poison – deaf or blind?”

As if on cue, both Claude and Piper declared their answers at the same time; he said “Deaf”; she said “Blind”. They stared at each other in bewilderment and the rest of us couldn’t help but laugh at the expressions on their faces. Of course Sam had to keep the game going by saying “At last! Some controversy, a little gasoline on the fire of our conversation. Let’s keep this ball rolling!” and he poured everyone a fresh glass of wine.

Claude cleared his throat. “Piper, mon cher, we own a bookstore! How can you possibly say you would choose blindness over deafness? Mon Dieu! Have you forgotten how we bonded at that little book shop in Paris … what was the name? Ah! La Manoeuvre! We both reached for the same book of poetry by Paul Eluard and when our eyes met I knew I could never look away.’’

“Oh, my darling Claude. I could never forget La Manoeuvre. You read poetry to me and time stood still. It was as though we were the only people in that shop. Our love for books is why we bought The Paper Trail; that store is our baby. I know each book on every shelf and have read most of them. The feel of the paper, the smell of the leather-bound first editions, hearing you read to me – I do not need sight to love a book.”

Piper and Claude moved closer to each other and embraced, momentarily forgetting they were not alone. They kissed, then pulled away, embarrassed. Piper blushed and gave a breathless laugh.

“Claude, do you remember the books I had in my bag the day we first met?” Piper asked.

Claude nodded and said “Oui. One was ‘Wuthering Heights’ in Braille and the other was French sign language. They were for your parents.”

Piper looked around the room at the rest of us and explained. “My mother is blind and my father is deaf. Somehow they never had trouble communicating; I suppose they spoke the silent language of love. That’s why I was so passionate about having a Braille section in our bookstore. Also, there is new technology to help both blind and deaf people enjoy a movie or television.”

Turning to Claude, Piper said “As long as I can hear your voice, it doesn’t matter if I never see another thing again.”

We all felt a little in awe of Piper at that moment. We sipped our wine, captivated by the sounds of silence.  

NAR © 2022

READ ALL ABOUT IT!

The Sicilian Storyteller

If you’re looking for something really great to read, I suggest these wonderful books of short stories by my friend and mentor, Simon J. Wood. In addition to Simon’s previous three books, his three new ones are: Letters from Reuben and Other Stories: 40 Little Tales of Mirth, The Window Crack’d and Other Stories: 40 Little Tales of Horror and the Supranatural, and Flash Friction: 72 Little Stories. Simon’s three new books are available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback format while his three original books are also available on audio format. Some are scary, some are funny, some are ironic, some are romantic and all are fabulous. They are highly recommended and if you choose a paperback version you’ll find they are of a very fine quality, too! Click HERE to see all titles on Amazon. Simon’s website, To Cut a Short Story Short, can be found at simonjwood.wordpress.com.

PS – I’ve never had a book dedicated to me before. Really quite lovely! ☺️

NAR © 2022

A LITTLE THING LIKE THIS

The Sicilian Storyteller

It was raining when Kate Sullivan left Mercy Hospital. She was exhausted after her 12-hour shift, a bit short-tempered and very sweaty. All she wanted was to get home, peel off her scrubs, shower and go to sleep.

Usually Kate walked the seven long city blocks to her apartment in Soho just to clear her head, grabbing a donut on the way. Even after a nightmare of a shift, walking was better than riding the New York subway. Her Crocs and scrubs had been splattered with enough bodily fluids at the hospital; she had no desire to be subjected to the lascivious Neanderthals who rode the train.

But walking home this morning in the pouring rain was not an option. Stepping out from under the protective awning of the hospital, Kate hailed a taxi. As if by magic, one appeared almost instantly. “Thank God” she sighed, praying the cabbie wasn’t one of those chipper talkative types. She just wanted someone to drive her home in silence.

“Good mornin’ to ya, miss. And where might ya be goin’?” The cheerful driver’s greeting sounded like angels singing.

Kate groaned quietly and rolled her eyes. “I might be going home if you’d just start driving’’ was her clipped response.

“Yer wish is my command! Where to?” the cabbie asked, undeterred. In a matter-of-fact voice Kate gave the driver her address.

“I’ll have ya there in a jiffy!” he replied and began humming a tune, one which was vaguely familiar to Kate but she couldn’t place it.

How could anyone be so cheerful at the ungodly hour of 5:00 AM? Kate glanced over at the cabbie’s ID card taped to the tinted plexiglass that separated the front and back seats. She read his name was Declan O’Murphy; could it be any more Irish? His photo depicted a rather handsome man, probably early-thirties with tousled brown hair and a shadow of a beard. He wore a somewhat serious expression but there were deep dimples threatening to break out, almost as though he had a private joke to share. His eyes stared back at Kate and she felt goosebumps doing a jitterbug up and down her arms.

Kate sat back in her seat, took out her phone and quickly checked her schedule. Damn! Another 12-hour shift tomorrow night. She peeked over the top of her phone to steal a glimpse of the driver and immediately looked away when she saw he was looking at her in the rearview mirror. He grinned broadly showing dazzling white teeth. He looked extraordinarily handsome.

“Are ya a doctor, then?” he asked, eyes dancing.

“Pfft!” Kate exclaimed. “No, I work a lot harder than most doctors I know. I’m an ER nurse; just came off an all-nighter and have another one tomorrow.”

Declan whistled and pushed his cap back a bit. “ER. That’s pretty heavy-duty stuff now, ain’t it? Well, I’ll leave ya be; just relax. OK if I put on some music?”

Kate shrugged and mumbled “whatever”; she found herself smiling slightly at Declan’s charming Irish accent. She was surprised when rock music filled the taxi. Kate recognized the song as the same one Declan was humming and found she really liked what she was hearing. She was sure she’d heard it before but just couldn’t place it.

She leaned forward a little, talking over the music. “I like this song a lot. Who is it?” she asked.

Declan jokingly gasped and smacked his hand across his chest as though mortally wounded. “Ya can’t be seriously tellin’ me ya don’t know the best rock group to come out of Ireland? Why, this is the one and only Thin Lizzy. Here … take a look at this” and he passed Kate the jacket for the CD ‘Jailbreak’ through an opening in the plexiglass. “That there’s the great singer Phil Lynott, gone too soon like so many before and after him.”

Kate really enjoyed the CD, especially “The Boys Are Back in Town” and before she knew it they had arrived at her apartment building. Was that disappointment she was feeling?

“Here we are, safe and sound”. Declan offered to walk Kate to the front door with an umbrella but she said that wasn’t necessary and asked how much she owed him for the ride. They settled up and Kate made a dash for the front door. Declan watched her disappear into the building, then drove off in search of another fare.

It wasn’t until Kate was in her apartment that she realized she still had the CD jewel case. She frowned wondering how she’d be able to get it back to Declan. He only had her address, not her name or apartment number and she didn’t notice which cab company he worked for. “Well, I’ll think of something” she thought. “Right now I need a shower and sleep.”

When she was done, Kate got into bed, reached for her phone and clicked the YouTube app, searching for Thin Lizzy. She fell asleep listening to ‘Jailbreak’.

The following night her shift was just as hectic as the night before. At 5:00AM, dog tired, achy and hungry, Kate left the hospital for her trek home. No rain today and the pre-dawn streets were still deserted except for an occasional car and the lights from a 24/7 donut shop. She was about to stop for a sweet chocolate glazed when she heard two short honks from a nearby car. Looking over her shoulder she recognized Declan’s taxi and immediately smiled.

The window slid down and Declan’s sing-song voice rang out: “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, lassie. Might ya be lookin’ fer a ride home?”

Kate laughed and walked to the cab. Easing into the back seat, she teased Declan a bit, asking if he was hoping to find her or his CD case. Now it was Declan’s turn to laugh. ”Could be I was hoping to find both.”

They exchanged friendly banter all the way to her building; there was even a little flirting going on. Kate asked herself if she could be falling for this guy after two short rides in his cab. What was really weird was she never got a clear look at Declan but she realized to her amazement that didn’t matter. For once she was attracted to a guy for his personality, the things he said, his sense of humor and his appealing Irish accent – not his looks. Usually that was the first thing that drew her to a man but this was different.

“Hey, Declan, you know what I just realized? You don’t know my name!”

“Well, I was hopin’ you’d tell me cos I have something to ask ya” he replied.

“My name is Kate. Kate Sullivan. What do you want to ask me, Declan?”

“Ah, a wee bit o’ the Irish in ya, is there? I knew it! Well, Katie, there’s a Thin Lizzy cover band playing tomorrow night at Paddy Maguire’s and I was thinkin’ it would be grand if we went together.”

Kate didn’t hesitate for a second. “I think it would be grand as well. I’d love to go, Declan. I want to get to know more about you.”

“Aye, Katie, that you will. I’ll pick you up right here tomorrow night at 8:00. And, Katie – my friends call me Murph.”

No one ever called her “Katie”; she felt little butterflies in her stomach when Declan called her that.

Kate wanted to look great for her date but didn’t want to look like she tried too hard. She chose a sunny yellow camisole, her favorite pair of skinny jeans and dangerously high-heeled sandals. She hoped Declan would appreciate her look.

At that same moment Declan sat in his taxi waiting for Kate; he was so nervous he got there 20 minutes early. This was a bold move for him, rarely acting so impulsively, but he felt he and Kate clicked after spending only half an hour riding in his cab. He thought about his grandparents who met on a train in Belfast and were madly in love by the time they reached Dublin. He hoped Kate wouldn’t be disappointed.

When Kate spotted Declan’s cab, she stopped for a minute to compose herself; she hadn’t been this excited about a date in eons. It was crazy – she barely knew the guy. Declan saw her standing in the doorway of her apartment building and his heart started pounding; she looked amazing, so understated yet elegant.

Kate started approaching the cab. “Well, it’s showtime, boyo” Declan whispered to himself as he got out of the cab and walked around the front to greet Kate.

“Wow! You’re a fine thing tonight, Katie!” Declan said breathlessly.

Kate stared at Declan in disbelief. “And you’re … you’re …”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed I’m a little person, have ya? All 4 foot, 5 inches of me.” Declan gave her a crooked smile. “Achondroplasia; I’m sure yer familiar. Katie girl, if this is a deal-breaker, I understand.”

All Kate could do was stare. Neither one spoke. Kate laughed nervously and said “Yeah, this is quite a surprise. Oh, damn! I just remembered something.”

Before Declan could respond, Kate ran back into her building. “Well, I suppose that’s it then, ya eejit! Shoulda said something before now!” he chastised himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking back to his side of the cab.

“Murph! Wait!” It was Kate calling out to him. Declan turned around to see Kate running back to the taxi. Catching her breath she said “Here. I forgot your CD case.”

Taking the case from her outstretched hand, the first thing Declan noticed was Kate had switched her high heels for flat sandals. He looked up at her and she smiled broadly.

“Declan O’Murphy, if you think a little thing like this is going to change how I feel about you, you’re dead wrong. Now drive. Our night is just beginning.”

NAR © 2022

IT’S A NEW YEAR!

The Sicilian Storyteller

It’s a new year! I love new years. I love the fact that I’ll be leaving a whole year behind me, no matter if it was good, bad or so-so. I like that kind of closure, the feeling of starting over again and having a fresh year ahead of me filled with new chances and new experiences.

Let’s start our new year with hearts full of thankfulness and hope, leaving all the unhappiness behind us and having faith for a better tomorrow.

A new year means a new chapter. I hope 2022 is an incredible part of your story.

NAR © 2022