The Oxymoronic Life of a Nearly Dead Woman
My hair is growing thinner, as my love for you becomes more abstract. Things you have done for twenty-eight years are more noticeable, although the actual fable says we grow toward friendship rather than appetite. We bicker with unexpected skill over the same news topics. Our children have no idea, the same way they never got around to a retirement plan. All they know are their oversize and boastful little shelters. We pray we will never need to evangelize our way into one of them, should our own money run out. It is a definite possibility. We may one day be forced to muster gratitude to them. My anti-depressant could be denied by Medicare. I could have a minor stroke.
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Author's Note
Some of the oxymorons are slightly obvious. Others are obviously slight.
Other stories by Angela Kubinec
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Hi Angela, this feels it has more to say, which is different to reading as 'unfinished'... It feels like a whisper wishing to take a louder stance, louder perhaps than it dares; in which case, if leaning to truth, it should.
Modern life is full of oxymorons. *
Amantine, I agree. I felt like I couldn't stretch the oxymoron theme any further without becoming contrived. It was a challenge. Perhaps I will go back without considering direct or implied oxymorons and just write the thing out until the voice is quiet. Thank you.
Christian, too true. Thanks for reading.
Hi Angela,
Perhaps 'writing the thing out until the voice is quiet", is the cruel kindness of the art ... :-))
I have found it to be the only way it ever works. x
*
More!
Keith, thanks so much. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Kitty, what a great bit of encouragement, there. Thanks.
* yes, most def
Hi, Gary! Thanks for the comment.
Skillful writing - clever and concise *