Howdy,
#NaNoWriMo (550) — Day 4
(Unedited, or only slightly)
Continued …
Scrawny Jake Jones didn’t mind scrappy Draymond Green’s game either. Somehow his six foot, seven inches looked shorter than Klay Thompson’s 6’7” when standing in a huddle, but Green stood tall in the paint, fending away big men with brilliant skill and Michigan State Spartan tenacity and determination. Rebound! Take it to the rack! Slam it down!
Jake knew he’d never play Draymond’s game, but he liked it. Its bulldog and unrelenting quality, oozing with overcoming attitude. Draymond Green before success, fighting for his place and a team making it to the top.
Jake dribbled and shot by himself, fighting for his place and hoping of a team to make.
Saturdays and Sundays always were best, because Jake had more time to play at the park. Even after going to church. That was the time his grandma still stepped in. Grandma took her grandson to church. She hadn’t been able to get Jake’s grandfather or dad to go for as long as Jake could remember. But he went. That was his time with Grandma. Sunday morning.
She made him a special breakfast. What became his favorite. Bacon, eggs, and crepes. Jake had never had crepes before dad moved them to his grandpa and grandma’s small house hugging the small town street.
Bacon always a candidate for the best part of any breakfast, it became common compared to crepes. Crepes offered delicate and delicious variety previously unknown or experienced to Jake.
Savory or sweet.
Grandma’s crepes sometimes thinly wrapped the bacon and eggs themselves — not quite an omelette, not quite a breakfast burrito, but amazing.
Other times simply syrupy circles flat as a pancake, flatter than a pancake, rolled like a steaming cigarette and swallowed in a bite or two.
What Jake thought best, spooning his own creations. Crepes filled with strawberry jam. Blackberry. Canned peaches. Raspberries. Chocolate sauce. Powdered sugar. Whip cream with fresh strawberries. Whip cream with anything. Or simple, a lemon juice squeeze dusted by powder sugar. Sour and sweet.
Finding himself looking forward to always trying to discover a new combination, Jake also went with a salty and sweet: two crunchy bacon strips, drizzled in maple syrup, rolled, and inhaled.
Great or good or bad sometimes didn’t taste much different to Jake Jones. He inhaled most food, being a tad hungry and a pre-teen. He enjoyed his food, but his way, and no doubt a lot faster and less savored than his grandma would prefer.
But Sundays were great. Grandma fed him well. He liked his time with her. At the breakfast table made special by her and their routine, walking to church, seeing her singing, and lunch after.
It was a good day of food. The week’s best breakfast and lunch out. Jake’s dad didn’t take him out to restaurants. “Can’t afford it, son,” he’d say. Jake didn’t know if he meant the money or the time with him. But Grandma spent both with Jake.
Money always everyone’s concern, Jake knew his dad’s words meant he couldn’t spare the cash on a luxury like eating out. But his communication, his communication to his small s “son” told him he wouldn’t spend the time. With his dad, he knew he was a lower case priority.
Grandma had lunch covered. Religiously. Often as going to church. Every Sunday.
To be continued …
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
Please subscribe to mailing list for the Reading Writing Living journey we’re on and get the goodies that’ll come from time to time with my newsletter. Thank you.