"The newspaper reported my family’s boating accident as a 'Lake Superior tragedy.'” Her eyes are deeper green than the lake that laps at our feet. She smiles and edges toward me. “We lived on Madeline Island. Now I'm alone. Would you dive into the lake with me?"
Act I Scene One - Truck Stop
Server: “You ordered the same soup for lunch last week.”
I’m thinking: How nice to be remembered.
Server: “You sat at the table by the door.”
I’m thinking: I’m flattered by her attention.
“Okay, guys, line up,” coach Johnson bellowed. “ You - Smith - at the head of the line, start the count by shouting out ‘one.’ Then Williams, you’re ‘two’ and so on down the line. Even numbers will be shirts and will cover this goal. Odd numbers will be skins.”
“Three, four, five…” the boys ahead of me counted.
“Hurry up, Richard, or we’ll miss the trolley.” Mother tightens her grip on my hand and tugs me up the hill on 68th Street. “Imagine the fun we’ll have.”
A fly drops from the morning sky onto the mirror surface of a lake. Twitch, twitch, concentric ripples expand with each movement. She flips right, moves left, circles right, and dances left. A fish appears under the fly. He sucks water through torn lips. Each gulp brings the fly closer. He examines the fly only to swim past to deeper water. She wiggles and begins to lift from the pond. He returns, lingers, and swallows the fly.
About the Author
Richard Wilberg is a creativity coach, musician, photographer, and former business leader who lives in Madison, Wisconsin.