This is the inaugural post, for the monthly bloghop hosted by Denise Covey over at Write… Edit… Publish.
You are welcome to submit any of the following – flash fiction, poetry, non-fiction, playscripts to a word count of 1,000 words OR artwork and photographs accompanied by your written inspiration in creating your works. There's something to suit every taste! Go and check it out!
Wouldn't it be nice to go on a Caribbean cruise? The polite tone is delivered with a sprinkle of enthusiasm. It comes out like a question, though I suspect it's meant to be an invitation. But then I could be wrong. Invitation? Hmmph, I should be so lucky. I mean, inviting one's better half on a jetsetter-styled getaway isn't the most natural thing in the world.
I wonder where this is coming from, or leading to. Am I expected to be surprised, excited? More like wary, and suspicious too! In this day and age, who can really afford a luxury vacation? And it's not as if he needs to make an impression. I mean, really, there are more important things to take care of.
It makes me think of something my mother once said: a vacation is like love – anticipated with pleasure, experienced with discomfort and remembered with nostalgia. May her dearly departed soul rest in peace, along with the unknown person who penned those words. Ha! I think the author only got it half right.
Anticipation? Don't get me started. The last time anticipation stuck with me for weeks, like a bosom buddy, only to be ousted by acute disappointment. Nostalgia? Ha! Bittersweet longing, after a disastrous two-week stay in a crummy lodge? Luggage stolen from our sleeping quarters? No vacation blues for me.
I refuse to get my hopes up, because flights of fancy have transported my fertile imagination to far-off and exotic locations… this has proven to be a dangerous indulgence.
Trust me. I'm talking from experience.
I look up from the book I'm supposed to be reading. He flips through a travel brochure with the mechanical motion equivalent to the weary resignation of a hamster on a wheel. Something is amiss. I can sense it.
My eyes drift downward, settle on the glossy brochure page. A white cruiseliner mocks me from its vantage point on the sparkling cerulean water.
You see, it's not really about the vacation.
I'm talking from experience.
So what do you think? I look forward to a full critique if you're so inclined. A simple comment will also do just fine.