It’s Wednesday. Hump Day. First day to get your Friday Fictioneers on! As per, I seem to have a bit of a problem with creating fiction. I am once, again, taking the memoir route. What can I say? I must follow where the muse takes me. If your muse takes you to an interesting place, then please do share! Click on the frog below and add your 100-words worth. Thank you, Rochelle for hosting this weekly party. And thank you, Douglas M. MacIlroy for lending us your image.
What’s the Word, Bird?
It’s funny how seemingly out of the blue a thought can cross your mind. Spark a dormant memory. You don’t even notice what triggered it (bird on a windowsill) but your mind starts roaming and a smile crosses your lips and a warmth spreads from your heart to your fingertips.
“What’s the word, bird?” was how he always greeted me.
“Tweet! Tweet!” was how I always responded.
‘Twas a silly exchange but one that shall forever remain a fond memory.
Mononcle* Royal, I cannot believe it has been twenty years since your twinkling eyes dimmed and your ready laugh silenced.
*I think I’ve mentioned it before but here in Quebec, or rather, in my family (and many other French families), an uncle or an aunt becomes “my uncle” and “my aunt” in one word. If I were to say I love my uncle, it actually will come out as I love my MyUncle. J’aime mon Mononcle.