adoptedwriter

Ok, so I was on this real fun boat just cruising along with some new friends. The people who owned the boat were having a huge party with lots of music and food. I love parties, especially the ones they call BYOB. Some people are extra awesome and bring more than one bottle!  I meet so many refreshing new Buds and Bubs that way. I even tolerate the Bruts, but their humor is kinda dry. Sometimes the party folks put on music and take us out on the dance floor.  I love that Red Red Wine song. Ever heard it?  It’s a fun one. 

Anyway, here I was just sitting on the edge in the sun, spending time with my Buds who were sticking their long necks out to help the Solos not feel so lonely and then there was this big “Bbbbbbrrrrruuummmmmmmpppp!” and then another.  All of a sudden a bunch of us took a dive and were swimming in the ocean, and I got so sad because I lost my cap somewhere in the water. I’ll never find it again.

I could hear the party people scream in the distance and call out at the dude who was steering the boat. He’d run aground somehow. I’m glad it was he who was smashed and not me! I heard the young woman who brought me along for the day cry out in annoyance, “Cupcake!  My Cupcake is gone!”  We’d only been together since the morning, but I think she was really going to miss me...

The boat engine sputtered and rumbled, waves slapped the side of the pontoon and it pulled away and faded from view. I had a sinking feeling. 

I don’t know how long I was out there in the sea, and I have no clue where all my Buds went but next thing I knew I was rolling kind of in and kind of out of the water.  I had an empty feeling, but that helped me manage to stay afloat for a time. Eventually the current pulled me to a quiet little cove where everything was lovely but very quiet. There were no parties going on here. Now what would I do?

Then, along comes this hippie guy in a rock band t-shirt I’d never seen before, and I felt so embarrassed because I realized that somewhere out in the ocean I’d somehow lost my label and now I was bare! Oh no! The guy came closer and bent down. “Why do people leave trash all around like this?” he said and sighed. I wanted to tell him that I was not trash. I’m not that kind of bottle. The guy picked me up out of the mixture of sand and stagnant water, turned me over and inspected me up and down. “You will do,” the man said, “I have a plan for you,” and he stuffed me into a backpack.

———————————————————————————

When I came to I felt a little glassy-eyed, but after a few minutes, I noticed that I was all clean and dry. I thought I was doomed for the garbage can or the recycle bin, but noooo…This guy was real nice and filled me with water and then stuck some pretty flowers in me. He even gave me a nice bow to wear too, so now I really looked sharp! Then he set me on a table and lit two candles. Then his honey or wife or someone like that came in and…Well…If I tell the rest of this story I will go blush…

So…Skipping ahead…Sadly I ended up sitting a few years in a kitchen cabinet with a bunch of old drink containers from all sorts of cool places. Most of them had big black mouse ears drawn on them, which I found odd, but we got along OK and we called our part of the cabinet “The Clubhouse” because that’s what the bottles with the mouse ears suggested. One day the lady in the house started cleaning out and found me. “Hey, Gary, what do you want me to do with all these old souvenir bottles in here? We never use them. We need to get rid of stuff and make space.”

The guy, Gary, he came over and saw me and said, “OK. You are absolutely right as always my dear. Let’s clean up, but… I need this one for a project.” He held me up to the light, turned me over and examined me. His expression was sly.

“I’ll be home later, “ he called out to his bride as he dashed out the door gripping me tightly.

———————————————————————————

Next thing I know, I am here on this amazing island. It’s very pretty. There are lots of palm trees, the sun is shining, and I see a few huts and a campfire. I have no idea what Gary wants me to do here on an island, but he stuffed two pieces of paper inside my neck and set me on a table again, but no flowers and no wife are here this time. There’s a fire burning, and a bunch of very tired and worried-looking people are sitting in front of me. They do not look happy.

This is awkward.

Gary tells someone to come forward to take me! Oh gosh! Now what!

Then this very nice lady rises from her bench and comes to pick me up. She likes me and has great hope. I feel so fragile and want to live up to her expectations. I don’t want to shatter her aspirations…

She murmurs, “Please G-d, please…” over and over again, and she cradles me lovingly in her arms…I want to stay with her…Maybe I can go back to her house…

Then she takes the 2 papers that were put inside me and pulls them out. I feel a little lighter and less stuffy again. Ahhhh…

Uh-oh…The nice lady who hugged me close and unstuffed me has set me down on the table. She is happy and not happy all at the same time after reading her message and takes a step backwards. This does not look good…I don’t understand what is going on here, but I hope they know it’s not my fault. I do my best to be sparkling and bubbly, but everything has gone flat just now.

So all I can do is remember my favorite song and hope that whatever Gary decides to do with me next will be something pleasant again.

“…Red red wine, you make me feel so grand

I feel a million dollar when you're just in my hand

Red red wine, you make me feel so sad

Any time I see you go, it make me feel bad…”

—————————————————————————————

Ahhhhh!!!!! It’s party! I get to go to another party! ALL RIGHT!!!

Gary is actually a really nice guy after all. He treated everyone on the island to a huge buffet meal with all the fixins. I get to sit right in the middle of everything where I can see everyone on the island joyfully chow down on all the amazing gluten-free, meat-free, sugar / carb-free foods and beverages of their choice. Gary picked some lovely tropical hibiscus plus plumeria, filled me up with fresh water (soooo nice!) and I get to sit here and shine for all of these talented and deserving souls why pass by and load their plates with all these rich and generous treats. 

Oh bouy! This is the best party ever!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ej1Kpv0WScw

From the first day Tiney arrived he had a hard time fitting in. He was dropped off in a cramped and crowded cubicle which he now had to share with an assortment of other stiffly postured inhabitants whose reputations had been tarnished. 

“Hey, Who the fork are you?” a spiky-topped guy in the back demanded. 

“I, I, I’m Tiney, sir. Who are you?”

“None of your Gorham business!” the testy utensil poked back.

“You’d better stay out of my way, ya hear me?  No jabbing.  No stabbing. No forkin’ around, ya hear me?”

“Yeah, yes, sss-sir”. Tiney was terrified. 

“ Looks like you can’t even do a real fork’s job anyway. You must be here to work with the shrimps and the weenies.”

“A bit of advice though,” the spiky-headed tool continued.

“Ya gotta especially stay away from those perverts in the next cube over. Those lazy SOBs think they can dish it out but all they do is lay around and spoon together day and night. They think they got the scoop on everyone else’s business but they don’t, see.”

Tiney nodded anxiously. He looked around. 

Tiney pointed the other way and asked next, “What about those sharp-lookin’ fellas right over there ?” 

“Well, their leader is Mac.  He’s a mean and very dull but he’s big. Then there’s Jack. Stay away from Jack. He gets pissed easily ‘n flips everyone off. He has a way of gettin’ under your skin, ya know. Oh, ‘n they got a pal named Pat who likes to butter everyone up because he’s not too sharp. He spreads himself too thin to be worth much. I tell ya though when those motherforkers get together they can be real cut ups sometimes,’ the slender, and slightly curved cutlery added.

Tiney was a bit nervous and hoped that he would find a way to feel less uncomfortable in his new setting.

Days passed and life in the over-crowded silverware drawer became monotonous. Tiney settled into a spot where he huddled with a plastic knife who seemed harmless enough but anxious and on the verge of snapping at any moment. The days turned into weeks.  Sometimes the drawer opened, light poured in briefly and a few residents were taken out and then returned all shiny and smelling lemon-fresh after a few hours. They told the other residents that the way to get so brand new looking again was to find a way to get inside the Water Place. It was warm there and you got an amazing shower, a rub down and you come out feeling renewed and useful again. Tiney also learned to numb up to the silly insults that the carving knife and biggest fork often made. After all, they had tough jobs dealing with hams or turkeys all the time. They always had a beef about something, and Tiney had to learn not to take what they said personally.

The next day was a big holiday. The inhabitants of the drawer explained that it was Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving you were supposed to work hard and get along with all the dishes, pots and pans because the day was about everyone coming together and celebrating the fact that each member of the kitchen was special. When the big day was finished a whole bunch of lucky cutlery and plates would get to go to the Water Place for some well-deserved R and R. 

The aroma of baking and the sounds of boiling were everywhere. From inside his compartment, Tiney could hear footsteps and muffled conversations.  He was very curious. Suddenly something felt like an earthquake.  He sensed a pulling and heard someone on the outside say “Damnit!  Who rammed a spoon in here backwards?” This comment was followed by serious grunting and more cursing and shaking. Tiney began to feel rattled. 

With a very loud “Errrrrrgggghhhh” and a forceful yank, the drawer jolted open and Tiney suddenly found himself flying through the air. 

Someone yelled unintelligible profanity and a furry, long-tailed creature he’d never seen before let out a noise that seemed to be a cross between yowling and screeching. The creature darted toward Tiney, and the horror-stricken little seafood fork missed the freaked out feline’s right eye by millimeters. He landed on the hard wood floor with a clink. When Tiney came to he realized he was being licked by that furry thing that yowled. It was a weird, itchy sensation. 

“No, no Grogu get away!” the hurried human said and swiftly shooed the furry fellow back from Tiney.  She gently picked up the shell-shocked piece of silverware and carried it across the room.  “I can’t use it in this condition,” the human said and sighed. “In you go!”

A large door opened and then closed very quickly. The room went dark. There was a rumbling noise and the whole area seemed very warm.  Then came the lemony essence and sprays of something liquid. He’d found it! The Water Place!  At last!  Now, as he lavished in squirts, suds and showers, he knew what everyone was talking about, and he indeed loved it. 

When Tiney was pulled from the Water Place about an hour later that nice human gently gave him extra wipes with a soft cloth and placed him on a table with a bunch of other shiny members he’d seen in the drawer. Everyone looked so different and so much better all shined up and poised on the tablecloth. 

Content and ready to party, Tiney thought to himself, “We clean up pretty good!” Tiney didn’t even mind having to help with the weenies. They didn’t give him any trouble at all. He was finally comfortable serving with his pals who, in spite of a few cutting remarks now and then, gave sterling effort to many glorious occasions for years. 

a simple want but with with lousy timing.

no words to explain but many passionate feelings abound:

     impatience

     insistence

     frustration

“Later” (I avoid the word,“no”.)

Her sense of time is yet-to-be formed and only now matters. 

“Let’s go read some Pete the Cat,” I offer. 

There is no reasoning

but my decision remains

because, consistency is key at this point.

Is this escalation going to be worth it?

     Heat rises; I take a deep breath.

     Hearts race; mine and hers.

     Her face reddens, akin to a panic attack.

Moaning and whining increases.

“Sorry sweetheart; not time now, but we can read your Pete story.”

Emotion escalates to something above anger:

     ire? 

     fury? 

     wrath? 

     rage?

She dramatically drops to the floor.

Her small, pudgy hands strike at the air.

Her bare feet bang the floor, pink polish chipped off her toes,

and vocals surge into howling.

She writhes and digs her tiny fingers into the carpet

but I must dig in as well and stay calm.

This will pass, but her conviction is powerful.

and I ponder as she swings her sweat-soaked, golden curls left and right,

will she become an actress? an athlete? a heavy metal singer in a band? an opera diva? or forever scarred because I told her “Snacks are for later”?

I clutch the Pete the Cat book to my heart and wait.

The screams sound like something awful in a horror movie.

She has my strong will with her mother’s short fuse. 
Damn!

She’s only two.

Her three-minute screech-and-scream fest feels like 30 minutes, but it probably feels more like three hours in her toddler-time world. 

I love her so much, but love doesn’t mean you don’t need a few rules,

even at Granny’s house.  

The fist pounding slows. 

The wails become softer. 

Tears mixed with sweat beads slowly trickle down her temples.

She sighs. 

Breathing slows.

Her blue eyes gaze to one side in exhaustion.

I’m still patiently holding Pete the Cat and his Four Groovy Buttons and I open to page one.  

She sits up and looks over at me quizzically

and joins me on the sofa. 

The incessant sobbing subsides. 

“Gwanny weed Pete?” (She can’t say ‘Rs’.)
 

“Pete the Cat is wearing his favorite shirt,” I begin, “the one with the four totally groovy buttons...”

Groovy, I dig Pete the Cat as much as she does right now. Pete is a cool kitty dude and he totally saved our day.

 

PS:

If you have small folk and have not heard about this literary blessing, I highly recommend Pete. He has music, books and videos. (See my icon.)

https://www.petethecatbooks.com/  or Amazon.com 
 

        Initially the plan was to adopt one kitten as sort of a Sweetest Day / Anniversary present to ourselves, and the agreement was to find a Calico. We’d recently lost our first Calico, (HoneyMoon) whom we’d acquired right after we were married. Since her departure we determined that our home was way too quiet. Our sassy, classy black JellyBean was too restless and needed a baby sister to boss around.

Off to the shelter we drove that sunny October afternoon.   

The shelter lady led us through a series of hallways, past older cats in one area and into another room which was a nursery of sorts. There were the kittens, still with their siblings and mamas, but eligible for adoption regardless. We found our Calico girl whom the shelter had named “Cheetah”. We were not required to keep that name, but we actually liked it, so we were set.  But we didn’t leave so quickly.

In another cage across the room sat a lone mother cat, all white like a snowball, except her eyes were green. She seemed bewildered, and I slipped my fingers between the cage bars to give her some form of love. I felt bad for her. My adoptee heart began to bleed for this solitary birth-mother cat. 

“Where are her babies?” my older daughter inquired.   

“Oh they were all adopted out today before you came,” the shelter worker said. I read the name tag on the cage: Diva. 

“She’s a diva alright”, I said. “Look at that sweet face”.

The shelter volunteer assured us that Diva was going home with a volunteer tonight so not to worry. This kitty mama would have a great home. I was relieved. Diva stuck her nose to the cage bars and let me stroke her soft forehead.

The door to the kitten nursery room swung open suddenly, and in walked another volunteer with a kitten. She placed the kitten in the cage with Diva and quickly latched the door. “He’s back!" the worker announced. Turned out that all but one of Diva’s babies had been adopted. The remaining kitten had been taken to a pet therapy event at a nursing home nearby for the day and had just returned. The little fuzzball missed out on the Sweetest Day adopt-a-thon because he was out doing good for the elderly. The lady informed us that he was a male. My daughters instantly took pity on him.

My girls insisted on petting him since, why not? We had one lucky and lovely kitten selected, but we might as well give this cute little white, fuzzy guy some good luck  metta before we headed out. My husband, the girls and I sighed and sat back down on the floor again to play for a few more minutes with the friendly fellow. I was falling in love. As soon as I saw his back end I knew…"Um, this is a female”.

The volunteers realized quickly that the other prospective adopters received the male by accident. Someone earlier had mixed up the brother and sister.

“It’s another girl daddy! It’s a girl. Can’t we get her too?” Our daughters  were insistent. I was insistent, and in spite of my husband’s better judgement, (and mine too, but I was less hesitant), that afternoon we walked out of the League for Animal Welfare smitten with two kittens: the loving and chill Calico we intended to adopt and the undersized but spirited white ball of squeaks and fluff we never dreamed of but who has shared more affection, cuteness and cuddles than anyone could ask for. We named her Sushi because she looked like a curled up little sushi roll with green eyes and pink foot pads. Some would describe her as so cute it’s disgusting. I just say she’s angelic. 

We also joke and say we got SuSHE instead of a SusHE.

     Today, Sushi is 18 1/2 years old. She is slowing down but the love has not. Cataracts are clouding her large green eyes, but she can still “read” you and see into your soul. She knows when someone needs company and cuddles. She insists, wobbly legs and all, on climbing on the back of the sofa so she can head butt by my ear or my hand. My Friday night adoption “happy hour” Zoom group has dubbed her the “mascot” since, well, Sushi is an adoptee as well and she has charmed them. Her purr begins with a slow, low rumble and builds to a the sound of a small motor. Sushi has always had a kitten mew instead of a full adult cat meow and she will nestle belly up in your arms like an infant.

One day little old, frail but affectionate-to-a-fault Sushi is going to cross that Rainbow Bridge. We will never be ready, and there will never be a another like her. Saying that our hearts will break is an understatement because there will be no words. As I watch her doze  contently and innocently on the sofa this evening I muse: Sweet forever baby girl…You give more than you take…You love without condition…You make people smile…You’re goodness purrrrrsonified…Your time is coming, but for now…We’re not there yet…You’ve had a lucky, loving life, but so have we.

Me:  I don’t swim.  I won’t go. It's winter.

My mom: It’s not real water.  It’s just a theme.  You’ll be fine, Link. Clara, Hernán and Sam are going. I think Meg is too. Mrs. H. and Mrs. S. will be there to help you guys. Then you get to have pizza at Fazzoli’s afterwards.  

Me: What’s a theme?  

My mom: A theme is an idea, Link. Just an idea. There’s no ocean there.

Me: (whiny voice) Do I have to wear a swimsuit? 

My mom: No Link.  You will be inside with your friends from school. 

Me: Good because it’s cold out.  I will need a jacket, right?  

I clasp my arms around myself gesturing chilliness. 

———————————

The bus is here.  We all board and since it’s just our class, everyone gets their own seat. I want to sit alone but Clara and Meg always sit together and talk about One Direction. It’s a band. Plus they giggle a lot.

I have my iPhone and can listen to movie theme soundtracks instead.  I like the music from Star Wars best. John Williams is the composer. He’s like Beethoven only Beethoven is dead, and John Williams is living. Mrs. H.  says the bus ride will take 20 minutes.

I’m nervous and I check the time. I’ve never been to an escape room and it sounds scary, but all my friends are going for Friday Nights Out, and my mom says I don’t need to wear swim trunks even if it’s a tropical deserted island escape room. I only wear swim trunks when we go to Myrtle Beach at spring break.
I wonder how you escape from there. 

This bus has a funny smell, and someone wrote a bad word on my seat. That’s wrong. I need to tell the teacher. 

“Hey, Mrs. S!” I call out, “There’s a cuss word on my bus seat. It’s the one that starts with ‘F’. What should I do?”

She’s letting me move to the seat across the aisle because that seat is cleaner.

————————————————-

We’re here but this place sure doesn’t look like an escape room. They have some crazy lights and they shine images of fish, sharks and octopi on the walls. That’s plural for octopus. Did you know that?  Now it’s our turn to go in the next room. I hope there’s no water in there. I don’t like swimming because it burns my eyes and makes me feel cold. 

Ok. So Mrs. H. says we have 30 minutes to solve a mystery but it’s not like Scooby Doo, but we still have to look for clues that will help us open special doors and get the magic keys and then we have to find the missing idols, line them up and spell the mystery word that will help us that open the sunken treasure box. Pirates look for sunken treasure. Have you ever seen Pirates of the Caribbean? It’s a Disney movie but for older kids. There are some scary parts. 

The room is dark, and that is weird. Now I know why they called this the Island Survival Escape Room. It’s like being on the beach at night.You can’t see much, and they have sounds of ocean waves on the speakers. The ceiling looks like a bunch of stars. I lean my hand on a shelf and something falls on the floor.  I think it’s a funny-looking key.  It’s not like the key to my house or Mom’s car keys, so I show it to Clara. She says to show it to Mrs. H.

“Good Job, Link! You’re onto something there!” my teacher says.

I’m not sure what she means by that so I go back to the place where I was leaning and watch some more. Sam finds a gold coin under a fake candle. It’s good that it’s a fake one because a real candle could burn you.  I’m not allowed to light candles at home. 

Gold coins can make you rich so I think he found something good.  Mrs. H. and Mrs. S. are excited about Sam’s discovery. Meg finds another key just like the one I found.  When Clara lifts up a sea shell she finds another clue. It’s a third key. I check my phone. We have 20 minutes left. 

Meg needs help opening up a box she found in a dark corner. She wants me to help her get it open so I do. She’s nice, but I like Clara better, but Clara likes Sam. The lid is on tight. The box makes a jingling sound. We see more gold coins. They occasionally glimmer in the dim light and Meg decides to reach deeper into the box. She finds one more key.
That was a surprise. 

Mrs. S. has us bring our keys to the table that has key holes on the top in the center of the room. Sam is curious and sits on the floor. He looks over and sees a bottle on its side. 

“It’s trash” he says. “I throw it out now?” 

“You should not put trash in an escape room”, says Clara. 

“Right. That could be germy” I add. “But wait a minute... That’s not a germy bottle. There’s a paper inside! Do you think we have a message in a bottle?”  Mrs. S. Helps us open the bottle cap, and a paper falls out onto the table. The teacher uses her flashlight app so we can read the word “SMASH”. 

“We’re supposed to smash something?” Meg asks. 

“Everybody just keep looking for that last key” Mrs. S. tells us, so we do. I lean back against another wall.  I’m not sure what to do, and I’m not so sure about that word “smash”. One time I was mad and smashed a drink glass on the kitchen floor. Mom took away my phone for two weeks. She said what I did was “inappropriate “.  

I feel a loose brick in the wall. I jiggle it, and I can tell it’s fake. I didn’t break anything. Something falls out and makes a “ker-plunk” sound on the floor. 

Another key! 

We place the five keys on the table and find the holes where we are supposed to insert them. The problem is, some of the key holes don’t work so we have to try each key one at a time. This is getting on my nerves because time is running out! I look at my phone quickly.

“Hey, Mrs. H. and Mrs. S., we only have ten minutes left.”

Meg, Clara and Hernán frantically try each key.  One falls off the table top, and Hernán drops to his hands and knees and sweeps the floor with his hand. “Got it!” he announces and bounces back up. They wiggle all the keys into the slots until they find the matches and the table top can now be scooted away.  Inside the box under the table are four idols.  They look like these silly, tiki statues with funny teeth I saw on vacation in a gift shop over spring break. My mom wanted to buy one. 

“Where’s Idol Five?” Hernán n asks. “We gotta keep looking. 

A light is blinking on the opposite wall and we drew closer. No one knows what to do about the light but Mrs. S. says someone should try to push the button by the light and see what happens, so I do and the word ‘smash’ appears on the other wall, so we all run over to that side of the room. I grab the ship’s wheel that suddenly appears and I turn it because that’s how you steer a boat, and a hole in the wall opens up. We find idol number five! Next I grab it quickly and we arrange our five found idols in order. Carved on their bottoms are the letters S, M, A, S, H. We set the five idols on the tray in order and a treasure chest pops out of another wall! The lights blink and we hear a lightning and thunder sound.

We did it!

The lights come on in the escape room, and we laugh and jump around. Now the speakers are playing hula girl music and colorful stars are shining on the walls by where we walk out. The girl at the front desk greets us at the door and gives everyone a lei to wear. They’re like the plastic ones we got at Meg’s birthday party last year. Mrs. S. has the front desk girl take a group picture of us. That’s going to go on our wall in the lifeskills room at school to show that we got rescued because we unlocked the mystery. 

I feel brave now.  We won and everyone is happy. I didn’t have to wear my swim suit or jump in cold water but I still helped my team get all the idols together. 

I’m starving so now it’s time to grab some pizza!

 On Thursday the Ohio governor will tell us if our county stays red or turns purple. Red  =  COVID bad. Purple =  We’re royally fucked. He prob won’t shut down businesses but will encourage everyone to stay home when possible. Right now our school is open five days a week for students and workers. AKA Tier I.   This could send us back to Tier ll   Workers come in but students would be 1/2 on line and half in class, depending on the day. Tier lll is a total shut down like last spring with 100% remote work and learning. For now, our girls, boys soccer teams are all going to finals. So is football. Even X-Country is going post season. Therefore to keep athletes well (Including cheerleaders) those students are doing 100% Zoom learning for the next two weeks regardless. We’d hate to forfeit a playoff game at this point due to COVID. I think the band kids should also have this option. It does clear a large portion of students out of our building though, therefore reducing risk of contamination. It’s almost like Tier ll learning anyway. 

Guess Thursday is the magic day for now, ... sigh...

Everything is so iffy and unpredictable right now: COVID, politics,     I hate that.

One of my sisters had surgery for severe sciatica Last week.   Another sister had surgery three weeks ago for nerve pain in her neck and down her arm, similar to my situation.  PT helped me but not her.   A third sister is having surgery for neuro pain in her arm and back tomorrow.  Jeez!  

Having dinner tonight with the Fuzzy1 and HoneyB.   Taco Tuesday!  

Rouge, rojo, garnet,

carmine, crimson or scarlet  

I adore red and all of its heat

just think of delicious things to eat:

lollipop stains on your lips and your tongue

sticky yet comforting when I was young

radishes, beets rare tenderloin meats 

cherries and strawberries, glorious treats

sweet, sour, tangy or cinnamon spice

Red jolly ranchers are ever so nice.

My very first bike, with streamers and a bell

and a USA flag sticker on the fender as well

Red that sparkles, now there’s a bonus

The ruby red slippers were Dorothy’s onus.

In 1975 and 76, the Reds beat the Sox and the Yanks

growing up with those heroes, I give much thanks

An antique child’s chair sits by my bed

It came from my uncle; he painted it red

“I want you to have this; now take it,” he said.

A remembrance now that he’s dead.

My house is red brick, sturdy and strong

protecting my family for many years long.

Red is enduring with power and might

A symbol for warmth, love, life and light

While others see danger, debt or distress

Red reminds me of many things blessed.