Damn Fine Sentence #128
“After that, everything I did was California’s fault.”
I pay tribute to other authors by sharing their Damn Fine Sentences with you. Then I recount a memory the words bring up. It’s about how books connect with your life.
“After that, everything I did was California’s fault.”
Shonda Buchanan
Black Indian
At the beach in Santa Barbara, I stamped footprints in the sun-warmed sand, as ocean mist settled on my shoulders and salt water scented the breeze. Seagulls scolded overhead. I was single, with enough money to indulge every whim; I was also suicide lonely. I took off chasing Somewhere Else, before I noticed that I loved salt water on the breeze and the call of seagulls.
Somewhere Else hop-skip-jumped me to Kansas City, where I plant flowers in the backyard, cursing the Missouri clay, the midwest humidity, my all-white neighborhood. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap grabs my attention. No more that a stride away, a woodpecker hops along a tree trunk. The blue head bobs faster than I can discern movement. White tail feathers flash against the gray bark. Hello little woodpecker. Happy hunting. Staccato drilling drowns out Somewhere Else. Complaints will wait.
Blame it on California.
Dave, thank you for reading and complimenting. It's a pleasure to know you're on the receiving end of my words.
Dawn, You are so good. It was hard to pick the best Dawn sentence. I went with Staccato drilling drowns out Somewhere Else. D