Great Again? She Honestly Can’t Remember (Pardons, not a poem)

Rolling over on her pillow as the moonbeam floated in the hushed morning, she smiled her not so usual smile. A new day, she realized and felt strangely free of all the worry of late. No fog greeted her, no wretching stomach, no worries Stretching up and out of bed, she reached for her clothes.”Funny,” she thought, “I don’t recall this dress. It’s perfect vintage, though. Note to self: Call Gran and thank her for this incredible find.” Which grandmother, though, sent this to her? Juana or Stella? Or was it Isadora and Agneta? She always just called them Gran anyway.

Twisting her hair “just so” to match the retro flair, she caught a glimpse of herself in the vintage mirror. “Damn fine, if I say so myself! Looking good . . . .”  Funny, her name didn’t quite fit this look, so why not just pretend for the day?

Pretend is certainly what she had to do, for she discovered a perfectly tidy kitchenette, waiting just for her (or so it seemed).  “Coffee,” she said aloud while searching each shelf in the cupboard.”The perfect latte or cappuc –,” she was surprised at what she didn’t find as her typical morning perk. “Hmm, just regular coffee. Already ground. Plain old flavor. Well, it’s part of a joke, I suppose. I can play with it; it may just be fun.”

To her surprise, in came a man who walked right up to her and kissed her long and hard. “The regular breakfast for me, Sweetheart,” he called out, and she immediately knew it was scrapple and eggs over medium with dark coffee, which she had somehow brewed in this percolating old-fashioned coffee pot. Oddly, she instinctively reached for his lunch pail and canteen, discovering that they were already filled with lunch and iced tea for the day. He laughed when she looked at him a bit puzzled. “Ready for a full day at the dock! Today we’re pouring concrete all day,” and finished eating the meal she had placed before him sometime earlier. She kissed him back and assured him, “The children and I will be trimming the little fir for the holiday party”

It was while she was saying this that she realized that now she had children. Children upstairs sleeping in beds down the hall from her bedroom, with lunches she now needed to make and homework bundles to prepare for school. When did she go back in time? Where did the husband and children and fir tree come from? Who was she anymore? What games had her friends been playing? Who were they anyway? If only, if only, if only. . . . Who was she anyway? She could no longer remember.


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