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Privy By Bruce Trice October 24, 2007 Thick brown vines with leaves of bright green and yellow fall down the walls all around me. I reach out to touch them but they have no feeling. The stone on the floor feels cool and damp beneath my bare feet. And a large door beside me closes, shutting out all interruptions. Now it is quiet. Alone now and uneasy, I slowly, gently, take my seat. Seeing the dim light around the corner, I think I hear a familiar book calling out to me from behind and with an awkward twist, I reach out for it, while at the same time, a sweet aroma fills my nostrils— It smells like springtime...in the fall. How pleasant. Opening the little leather bound to Chapter One, I settle in to my good book. A little fan whirs in the distance. My eyes slowly close while I listen to the soft electronic purr of it's motor. It is the only sound I hear when, All of the sudden, Out of nowhere, I become relieved. About the author: I am a 45 year old 4th generation Arkansan, who became hooked on Garrison and his show while living in Colorado for just over 8 years, until I could stand it no more and moved home almost 9 years ago to the Land of Opportunity, where the kudzu runs free, where just looking at a pine tree can cause you to perspire and where my children can stand on the same ground that their great-great grandparents stood. Speaking of family, I am the father of 4 glorious daughters and 1 strapping son and I have been married to sweet Janice Kathryn for just over 21 years. I wrote this little ditty when my beloved in-laws were at my home, visiting all the way from Bozeman, Montana and I could find no quiet resting place in my moment of need. It's a good thing we bought the house right across the street from Uncle Bennett and Aunt Margie! | | | |
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