White-gray on the color wheel

In the 19 years I’ve known Dawn it was maybe the second time I’ve seen her hungover, one random Friday in February. And though it was set to snow and I tried a new gumbo recipe, built a fire, she wasn’t interested in any of it; she just threw up and ate crackers and stayed in bed. Even the burger didn’t help. The gumbo recipe called for toasting the flour in the oven which I did first with a pan that wasn’t oven-safe and began to smell of chemicals or cat urine, a smell gone afuck, so I switched it out partway for the iron skillet we use to fry bacon. The flour got the color of cinnamon and I moved it to a plate to cool, then out on the patio so it could cool faster. Left to myself in the den I wrote with my shirt off by the fire drinking wine, the dog watching me. Outside it was really snowing, it started right when they said it would, but it was hard to tell if it would amount to anything. It just looked grizzled and cold. The foothills did too, a white smudge on the snow-line, the same as my beard. Dawn’s friend Heather was in to numerology, she said the six-month date after your birthday is more significant in a sense, your “summit.” That’s when I started writing my last 50K word challenge, last May.

The cat’s missing a tooth on the lower jaw from when she fell out of a tree and now looks like a dragon, like Smaug maybe, her lazy snake eyes, her fuck-you sneer.

I pre-saged the scene Lily would leave home for college in a dream, we walked along a college campus at night, the scene rich with the sense of loss, of going away—it could be any number of goodbyes, they all have a similar feel, slightly different tones on the color wheel.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in Memoir, parenting, prose, writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to White-gray on the color wheel

  1. ksbeth says:

    all just different tones/shades

    Liked by 1 person

  2. walt walker says:

    “a smell gone afuck” made me snort-laugh

    “‘left to myself in the den I wrote with my shirt off by the fire drinking wine” that’s very hemmingway of you, very hemmingway indeed.

    Liked by 2 people

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Snort laughs are best for blockages. Hemingway: smoking one or holding one in my lap is about as close as I’ll come. Or that village in the Austrian Alps. Foolish behavior abounds and no shortage of material there.

      Like

  3. Some kind of interaction between the picture and the words? Or lucky happenstance?
    Either way I enjoyed the piece MUCH more than a hangover and I enjoyed seeing another Vinyl Connection record appear here. The Bill’s in the mail. (Tee Hee)

    Liked by 2 people

    • pinklightsabre says:

      I’ve been lazy about adding images so u just reuse what’s in the kitty there, and you were on my mind and so was Smaug, by way of our cool cat Roby. Tee hee, Bill’s in the mail. Funny…

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I don’t know … gumbo just seems like the wrong thing to make on a hangover day. 🤢

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Jess T. says:

    This made me smile. It’s witty 🙂

    Like

  6. Dave Ply says:

    A cat that looks like a dragon. Maybe that’s where the dragons have been hiding all this time.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Trying to picture you writing and drinking next to a roaring fire with your shirt off. Did you steal that image from Vladimir Putin’s Christmas card?

    Liked by 1 person

  8. rossmurray1 says:

    Had a friend who would never admit to being hungover; she was only ever “crispy.”
    Hot-and-sour soup is your cure.

    Liked by 1 person

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