Early evening and the walls are caving in. One course of homework complete, now on to Composition and the preparation of a five course meal has escaped realization for Samantha; a 38 year old college freshman , moderately successful business owner, wife to an overgrown 40 year old boy of two decades, and mom of five teenagers. Determined to pave the way of noble characteristics, Samantha cracks the solitary window of confinement allowing increased fenestration to circulate carbon dioxide, indeed a wise choice in efforts to rejuvenate the lost energy molecules her Chemistry homework so graciously borrowed. Slow movement, dazed eyes and the tranquilization that an absence of light inflicts diminished the hope of a second wind. Too tired to think, too knackered to function, she knew she could no longer fungo her way through this tunnel of darkness; the time had come to call upon her most qualified assistant: perseverance requires prayer.
Samantha’s submission, accompanied by the soft music of romance, invigorated a swaying motion of dance steps buried within her soul. Aroma lingered with scents of gooey marshmallows and dripping mocha chocolate encased by double cinnamon grahams that only a cool slithering breeze could grasp from the adjacent parcel. The backdrop of a crackling bon fire and the kibitzing neighbors embellished Samantha’s ginormous desire to reminisce and two-step along the Table Rock Lake shores. Distant visions of shimmering water and butter crystals ionized by pure sunlight skims the surface of rippling waves sifting through her vibrant orange polish. Protrusion through sand granules and foamed white capped bubbles, the conveyance triggers the natural vibration a complimentary massage produces, the calamity of spirit becomes the fringe benefit Sam gains from submission. The child like innocence and the comfort felt within retrieval words are collectibles attached to her heart. “Sam! Come Home, Sam!”…
“Back to life, back to reality, back to life, back to reality”, serenades the cellular device as the sweet peas of Sam’s heart (aka Mikayla & Miria) initiated mobile to mobile drama, round one for the evening. Her twin daughter’s emotions were rising and the debate was ignited as Sam recollected a distinct morning conversation of Mom’s Taxi Service Schedule to begin at 7:30 p.m. not 7:00 p.m. Mikayla insisted such tardiness was solely the fault of Miria as Miria shifted blame to Dad, passive traits are prone to such burdens of involuntary targets. However, don’t be fooled. Good ‘ole passive Dad and the only son, Mikel, find comfort in their marathon training which has been successfully tailored, especially when the predominant factors include shared estrogen levels among five drama queens. The Boys’ adrenalin pumping speech goes a bit like this: “RUN like EBEN! RUN Mikel RUN! DON’t let those carnivores catch you! RUN like EBEN!” Meanwhile, as the bickering continues and no consideration is given to Mom’s fuming tendencies of ring side referee services, All EBEN could break loose! Instead of feeding among the carnivore attitudes, Sam chose utilization of the slow interval breathe in and breathe out stabilization method, then responded “Gotcha. I will arrive for pick up in T-18 minutes”. Click. The call was over. Mumbling and jumbling, Samantha’s outburst prevailed seconds later, “Shenanigans! I fell asleep during prayer!” Kibitzing out loud, her jibber jabbers gained momentum then yet another coping method unveiled it's identity...
Although prayer time had been interrupted and a rude halt to a phenomenal dream became a bittersweet buttery illusion, Sam’s reality of fungoing throughout trials is now in season.
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