The Family Announcement

After washing my hands

I dried them with the towel that hung just to the right of the sink.

The towel was blue, freshly washed, slightly warm from just being removed from the dryer.

It felt good on my hands, soft to the touch.

For some reason I thought of childhood as my wet hands were wrapped up in the towel.

Which made me think of the buzzing sound of a lawn mower.

And the scent of freshly cut grass.

And the clumps of green grass left on the yard or in the street.

Leftovers from a mower’s passing.

And the sound of other neighborhood children playing outside.

Their laughter and screams of joy.

After washing up, I went down stairs to join the family.

I walked slowly, passing the picture frames on the wall.

Examining each one quickly.

Each contained a different portrait. Some in black and white. Some in color.

All of family. Some older than others. Some depicting long deceased family members.

Some formal portraits. Some candid shots.

I got downstairs to the family room, which was busy with people. 

It was like a major transportation hub. People moving from afar to near. And near to afar.

Talking and noshing and greeting and hugging and sharing and telling and listening and smiling.

The family was new, or, at least we had some new members to introduce.

It’s been many years since we all gathered in the same place.

But this was an event we all looked forward to.

A big announcement was to be made.

She knew I was nervous as I ducked into a corner.

A corner which managed to drown in shadows.

A corner which escaped the outside sunlight.

The sunlight which was doing an excellent job of draping most of the room’s walls with warm light.

She grabbed my nervous hand.

My palms were sweaty.

But with her hand in mine, I began to feel more secure.

Conscious of the sounds around me.

The high-pitched greetings, the grumbling of elders, kids telling imaginary secrets.

A lonely chocolate candy without its wrapper sat on the floor unclaimed.

We all watched as he took center stage.

Which was actually just a chair. A chrome metal chair with a vinyl seat. Green-yellow. Left over from the 70’s.

He carefully got on top of the chair. Balanced like a professional tight-rope walker.

He stood tall and proud to deliver the announcement we’ve all been waiting for.

© 2015 David Greg Harth

15.06.25.07:45:02@130BklynNYC