Jude, Faith, and Banana Pancakes.

[KB.]

The two of them sat on the front porch, it was not a big porch, but big enough. It had two good chairs, and more than a few wind chimes that seemed to speak some foreign language all their own as the warm spring breeze flowed through the air of the early morning. He was reading a wore out copy of a Jack Kerouac's On the Road, and there was a glass of freshly brewed iced tea sitting on the porch next to him. His hair was short, a tiny little bit of gray around the edges, and he wore glasses, not prescription ones, just the cheap ones from your local drug store, cheaters some folks called them.

His eyes were clear, green with a hint of gold around the pupils. He needed to shave, and she made sure he knew it, but smiled when he threatened to throw away the razor forever. His hands were thin, skinny fingers, and the scars stood out against the sun tanned skin. He had never cared much for the sun, always preferred the non-judgment of the moonlight, but the last few years he rather enjoyed being in the sunshine. He wore baggy jeans and a light t-shirt with some random sports team on it. Looked like a bum, barefoot. He looked content, and he was, fully. On his hand was a ring, one of two pieces of jewelry he wore, the ring was not gold, and no diamonds were in it. It was a simple, unblemished circle. On his neck was the little bear he had worn for more than two decades. It had kept him company for a long time.



She was a magnificent woman, short and beautiful. Hair as black as coal, the gray showed a little better than it did in his, but that was due to the contrast of it, there wasn't much to be seen. Her skin was darker than his, a sweet light caramel color almost. Her eyes sparkled with the thoughts of coming aggravation to be showered onto him. Barefoot as well, with a blue Bob Seger shirt on. She was reading a newer copy of Ricky Bragg's, All Over but the Shoutin', she had finally got around to it, he had told her she would appreciate the feeling of it, the familiar story it told. She held the book in her small hands, caring, and gentle hands. They had pulled a lot of weeds, both from him and the garden around back. She was wearing a pair of old khakis, wore out around the cuff, grass stains from all the gardening were forever a part of the pattern of them. She wore a ring as well, simple as his, yet elegant. The way she wore it gave it more value than any queen's crown. The lemonade at her side still had pulp in it.

She was looking across the yard, past buttercups by the dozens, towards two dark haired, skinny legged, little angels. They played together well, the boy the oldest by a little more than a year, Jude was his name, named after the patron Saint of lost causes, what a splendid name for a first born child, a reminder that sometimes a cause was worth fighting for, that all things found were at one time lost. He had his father's eyes; green little orbs that showed his every thought and feeling, that poor child would never be able to lie about a thing. He kept a careful eye on his little sister, Faith Louise, named for the couples Grandmothers, funny how they both had that name, and to compliment her cousin Grace, what a heart breaker she was going to be. Deep brown eyes, hair darker than her brothers, and skin an amazing olive tone. She was maybe two, making her brother coming up on four. They looked like a couple of renaissance cherubs who spent too much time in the sun. She chased him around, calling for her ude, she hadn't quite mastered the J yet, and he laughed the laugh of innocents as he let her catch him and drag him down into the soft grass. He picked a dandelion and tickled her nose with it as she blew lighter than air white from it, and he made a wish. His daddy had taught him that. Always make wishes he had told him, when ever a star falls, or candles get blown out, when you release the life spreading seeds from a dandelion, whenever your beautiful Mother smiles that smile of hers. Always make a wish.

He looked up from his book, the stories that reminded him how lucky he was not to be rambling on anymore, and grinned at his little gnomes as he called them. He glanced over at his woman, his lovely understanding woman, and she caught him. She threatened his beard and pinched him. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on her lips, and heard Jude start in on his newest reiteration, something about kissing in trees, and baby carriages. He grinned even bigger, showed his teeth a little that time.

It was Sunday, their favorite day, no work, no worries, lazy Sunday. It was April, and they both, at the same time but in different minds, thought back to that day those years back, when they had fought a little, nothing serious, they had to actually try hard to even do that. They remembered how the hours had played out afterwards, the sweet revelations they had shared. First him, writing just to her, and scared as he was he knew it would be fine, grand. Then her telling him in no uncertain terms, she wasn't going to wait for long, couldn't. That was a Sunday as well, almost to the day. The 15th if he remembered correctly, and on into the 16th. He stood up and rubbed his knees a bit, they hurt sometimes these days, she was quick to ask if he needed anything, and he told her he had all he would ever need right in sight.

He made his way into her house, their house, and picked a few songs to play as he cooked his family breakfast. The first to come pouring out of the house and into the front yard was Banana Pancakes, by Jack Johnson, and that was what he was making, he and Faith would have omelets, turkey and cheese, lots of hot sauce, three eggs, she would share with him. He made some thick home style fries, and then cooked pancakes for his woman and Jude. Jude liked eggs, but his Moma couldn't eat them so he ate what she did, such a fine young boy, so observant for his age. He poured juice for them all, and cut the tops off of some fresh strawberries. Warmed two bagels up and set them out in halves. He cleaned the mess up as he called the rest of him inside, that’s how he thought of them, the rest of him. He picked Faith up and washed her hands in the sink, Jude ran back from the bathroom, with his Mother close behind.

Later as the children took an afternoon nap, they lay across one another and talked as they always did on these quiet lazy days. He told stories she had heard a hundred times over, but she always picked up a little something different with each telling, and if she listened close she knew he would have a new one to sneak in. They watched A Love Song for Bobby Long, and they fell asleep beside one another, comfortable sleep. Love those Sunday naps. They never slept for long, but always felt like new people afterwards. They played more music, they danced a little, talked about new projects to work on, and maybe a waterfall and reflection pool next to the garden, he got creative and said they could implement an irrigation device to recycle the water. She looked at him like he was crazy, and he shrugged a little, and then went to shave. She walked in and asked if he wanted her to cut his hair for him, and he told her that would be nice. It always soothed him so when she did that. The steady hum of the razor and the soft touch of her hands. The way she always managed an, "oh ****" as she cut his hair, like you could mess it up. He vacuumed the hair from the carpet, and noticed more gray than usual it seemed. It failed to bother him, a million men would trade places with him at this moment, and he would fight them one by one to keep his spot in heaven.

He closed the door, and undressed. He needed to shower after the haircut. He looked at himself in the mirror; he had somehow managed to remain skinny all these years, no idea how. He still didn't look his age, a month less than a year till he turned forty, and he was still a decent looking married man. That was because of her. She kept him young. He noticed the wrinkles around his mouth, the years he had smoked had less to do with that than the ever present smile he seemed to have worn these past years. His tattoos, the first two were fading a bit, the black one was almost washed out looking, KB it said. Such a long time ago. Twenty two years almost. The other, the red one, was still a loud contrast to the first, but he liked it. It had a meaning to him. Reminded him of friends from long ago. The new one, three years old now, was his favorite, a simple little yellow sun with a life giving beam shining down on a small tree, he loved the poetry of it all. He showered and put on a little baby powder, he enjoyed the way it smelled. It reminded him of new life. Threw his jeans back on, and pulled his shirt over his head as he walked outside. He wandered into their room, and watched her as she snooped through one of the cedar chests they had found in some out of the way antique shop. No idea what she was looking for, if anything, but she looked wonderful.



He smiled as she pulled out the blue St. Louis cardinal’s hat, the one a friend from his old neighborhood had made for her. Watched as she put it on, he knew what that meant. It was time to plan for a trip back up I-55, they needed to go cuss at exit 206C, and stop at Joanie's for chicken sandwiches or pizza. They would have to make phone calls, find out when some of their old friends would be around, make sure Mona knew, and see if Crissy and her brood could make it to town. Maybe see if they could talk themselves into some tickets to a game, take the kids to the zoo. It would be good to go visit, they both owed that place a hell of a lot. He smiled at the pleasure in it all.

They ordered out for supper, neither wanted to mess the kitchen up again. They watched their babies play some more, and he read them stories about Christopher Robin and that honey loving bear named Pooh. They fell asleep slowly, and he carried them one by one into their room. The night was still young and warm. They walked outside as twilight approached, looked at the things they had built and grown. Looked at each other. It was a gorgeous night. The subtle sounds of spring took them in, and they found a spot to just lie back on the grass and look up. They watched the stars shimmer in the far off atmosphere, one fell, and he made his wish. The same wish he made for every star, candle, dandelion, and smile. She made her wish as well, same as his. It always had been.

They made their way back to their home, in no rush at all. Slow walked it. Talked about sleeping in the next day, maybe tell who ever cared that the eggs must have been bad, never mind they knew she didn't eat eggs. He told her one more story for the day, about the night he had deleted every bookmark about a job at some park, or some ranch in Wyoming, or on a fishing boat in Alaska. Told her about how Robert Cray and him singing about going home had sounded so sweet that night. How he had driven aimlessly around St. Louis that day, smiling so big it hurt. How he had ordered extra tomatos on his chicken sandwich. How he had sat down and wrote a story about things to come, and wishes. About Jude and Faith, and still looking young. She had heard this one many times before, but it always made her shake a little. They wrapped themselves together like long lost friends who had finally crossed paths again. Glad to be at the same place at the same time.

He turned off the lights and took his place on the side of the bed closest to the door. Slept the sleep of the loved and content. Tomorrow would be a beautiful day, full of Sunshine, blue skies, and buttercups. They set the alarm to play Banana Pancakes, and drifted off. Wake up slow, was the last thing he thought of that night.

KB

[KB.]

You know Im bored out of my skull right now, why ain't you sending me some random, non sense messages. Slacker.



**Thats funny, as soon as I clicked submit, I got one**

[koan]

A nice read.

It's too easy to overlook the good things in life.

[KB.]

This one is total fiction, me playing at scripting the future.