Arvilla Fee
Transient
I’ll burrow beneath goose-down covers. Soon you’ll turn; we’ll spoon. I love the predictability of our shapes. Then, as the sun is dripping its buttery light into the blue-black morning, we’ll have coffee and eggs (yours over-easy), and we’ll watch the news—you, grumping about those vapid politicians who talk out of both sides of their mouths. With a hand on one hip and that ornery, cock-eyed grin, you’ll say: I’ve already forgotten more than they’ll ever know! I will laugh, and we’ll take synchronized sips from our mugs. But I know, in spite of the going-to-hell-in-a-hand-basket predictions you always make about our world, you’ll put on your green flannel shirt, those forever-grease-stained mechanic jeans, and beat-up brown boots—and go to work. Because that’s who you are.
Who you were.
quiet kitchen uneaten oatmeal in the sink
About the Author
Arvilla Fee is married to an Air Force colonel and has four children. Military life has enriched her teaching and writing careers as she’s lived in five different states and visited several countries. With each new piece, she hopes her readers will wipe away tears, burst out in laughter, think critically about the world in which we live… or just say, “She gets me!”