Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

"Transfusion" by Julie Fonda (1 Viewer)

A

Authorette

At times, I need a transfusion ‑‑ to funnel the life's blood back into my soul because it gets siphoned out, tapped and, sometimes, completely emptied by a plethora of unworthy parasites.

Everyone thinks that they can have a piece of my essentiality, my substance. The jerk that tailgates me in rush‑hour traffic, who, when I pull over to let him pass, flips me off. Imagine! It’s apparent from his aggressive driving style that he has a Class “A” Driver’s License – (That’s “A” as in Anarchist.) And in my anger, I hand him a piece of my soul ‑‑ the part that was holding my equanimity in place.

Later, as I am watching the evening news, they flash photos of gruesome dead bodies onto the screen ‑‑ only a few seconds' worth ‑‑ but it's enough to siphon some more of the life right out of me. I switch the channel to "Barney" because I don't want the baby looking at that gory stuff. It might suck some of the life out of him, too.

My husband gets home from work, ready to lash out at anyone who happens to be in his way. Every ounce of peace, goodness, and charity has been tapped out of him during his day at work. He is cloying, expecting me to furnish him with something to be happy about and a fresh view of life ‑‑ which is a pretty tall order for a person running on "half‑empty."

So, I excuse myself for a couple of hours. I go to the mall and walk around. I stop and buy several pieces of dark, gooey, cream‑filled chocolate and stuff them into my mouth, greedily, as I observe the shoppers scurrying around. Most of them need transfusions, too, because I can't find a single person who is stopping to smell the roses along his or her way.

Roses. "Blue Roses" is the perfume sample at the cosmetics counter that I spray on my wrists and neck. The cherished scent envelopes me.

"How many ounces would you like to purchase?" asks the salesgirl standing behind the glass display case.

"Oh, this is just perfect," I tell her. "Thank you."

And I continue my walk.

Then, I notice a friend, or rather an acquaintance, from an office that I used to work in ‑‑ Frank. (His co‑workers nicknamed him "Frank‑the‑Crank.") A real soul‑sapper. I duck into a coffee‑and‑tobacco store to prevent myself from being seen. The aromas assault my senses, and it is wonderful. I buy my burnt‑out, ill‑natured husband some Vanilla pipe tobacco. Maybe that will cheer him up. You see? My desire to engage in acts of kindness has returned. I'm glad that I have a surprise to bring home to my husband.

The acquaintance has disappeared and the coast is clear. It's getting late, and I want to make sure that, in my absence, my family hasn't trashed the house. When I'm inside my car, I can smell the Blue Roses Cologne mingling with the Vanilla pipe tobacco. They are compatible. I switch on the radio as I'm pulling out of the parking lot and sing along with the tune while I’m driving home.

Another jerk tailgates me, but this time I quickly move over, and with a cherubic smile, I flip him off. First-strike advantage. I giggle to myself because – if I want – I can be a jerk, too.

When I open the front door of my house, my family greets me ‑‑ even the dog. Everyone has calmed down. The house and its inhabitants give off an aura of synchronicity because, unlike earlier in the evening when we were all careening out of control, going in different directions, now we are all traveling in the same lane.

"I bought you something," I say to my husband. And I hand him the bag holding the pipe tobacco. His face lights up in surprise and he looks like the man I married.

We all need occasional life‑giving transfusions to fill the wells of our souls. They enable us to relate to one another in meaningful ways and enjoy giving ‑‑ more than taking. For the most superior part of mankind is the part that he gives back and builds into the lives of others.

Now I can live inside my skin, equanimity has found me and, once again, life is good.



~
 
this is one of the best pieces i've read on this board.
You did an awesome job. Simply awesome! Sometimes you're just really glad you bothered reading something. Yep. I'm really glad.

Excellent job.
:thumbl:
 
Last edited:
S

scottmac

Hi Julie,

Just wanted to thank you for the great article. I enjoyed the use of smell in your writing. Words and images like; chocolate, vanilla pipe tobacco, coffee, Blue Rose, "stoping to smell the roses," and the "aura of synchronicity," made this article work for me.

I laughed when I read.

"How many ounces would you like to purchase?"

"Oh, this is just perfect," I tell her. "Thank you."

Who has not not been caught by the sales person while using the sample bottles at the mall? Maybe it was not meant to be funny, but it was to me.

I also related to this article because I work with a local blood bank. Last night I sat down after a long day--your article was one of the first things I read. Great stuff.

Equanitity; this is not your everyday word to me. Yet you start and end your article with it. And it works for me.

I enjoyed reading a short article at this forum.

Thanks again,
scott_mac
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top