I’ll have to check into that movie. The writer sounds brilliant. :0)
I need to think about the transition as well.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
Short Story / I love you forty dollars.
Dear God, you know I love you. However, can we agree that most of your other children leave much to be desired?
Having been raised in a world of airbrushed makeup, streamers, tambourines and other miscellaneous shiny objects; I had become more than a little snarky. Cynicism had crept in between the sparkly Jesus banners and the Hallelujahs. It was a typical Sunday in church; not all together different from many non-denominational gatherings. I was in one of the rows toward the back. While glancing around the room, I bore witness to the many expected ways of worship and inwardly shuddered. Due east, were some twenty-somethings doing the new and improved back and forth rock. The holy hankies were waving up front, and there were more streamers in various gauzy arrays than Donald Trumps birthday party.
Wavering back and forth, I found myself between amusement and chagrin. In the past I usually kept entertained by creating mental bets on which blue collar in the Jewish hat would be first to excitedly bust out the Shofar. Why did every church service I attended recently look like a promo for some up and coming televangelist? Shaking my head, I mentally chastised them for posturing while climbing a little higher on my personal pedestal. Pitiful really, I felt sorry for them. How were they to reach true intimacy with God when they were mimics?
Please realize that even as I am writing this, I am nauseated at my own arrogance; I just want to be real with you.
I settled back on my self-righteous haunches and my thoughts turned to my favorite toys. I’m the proud mama of the three cutest boys 4 and younger in the entirety of creation. My eldest is Malachi. His most beloved outfit is a garish purple Bibleman cape, cowboy boots that are 2 sizes too large, and underwear covered in cartoon characters. He loves to adorn that little number and show mama how far he can jump as well as how many cartwheels he can perform before he vomits all over the carpet. Caden, his superpower is the amazing ability to tug on any article of clothing I’m wearing while chanting mama at 110 decibels without ever tiring. I am not exaggerating when I say without ever tiring. Then there’s baby Zion. He’s the main reason I never make it anywhere without being covered in what I like to call kid. For those of you who aren’t parents, kid consists mainly of spit up and snot. Those two substances are the milder of bodily excretions the kindly other people love to point out when I am in public.
Thinking about my boys relaxes me in situations where the only other alternative I can concoct is how to efficiently paper cut myself to death with the offering envelope. The Smith boys are the antithesis of trendy by any stretch of the imagination. You’ll find them sporting the ugly light up shoes my mother buys despite my comments on how she is conditioning my children to become future fashion victims. You can’t understand what they’re saying the majority of the time, which lead to grunts and annoyed gesturing. And if I had entertained the thought before offspring that it is possible to receive as much as you give, forget about it. It ain’t happening. I have officially wiped too much butt for the odds to ever be in their favor.
All that to say this, every single time Mally asks me if he’s getting stronger after a heart attack inducing leap from the kitchen table, I smile, say yes and encourage him to jump farther. See, I believe in him. No matter how irritated I get at being tugged on by my little Caden; when I hear him call for me, I melt. He doesn’t speak as much as other kids his age, but he knows his name for me. And as for Zion, it doesn’t matter how dirty he is, or that he cries when he doesn’t get his way. He lies in whatever position I put him in and penetrates my very soul with his gorgeous baby blues. I practically skin my knees falling for him. Feel where I’m going with this? My kids don’t have to impress me with their fashion sense, pretty words, or even by doing the “things you should do to maintain a healthy relationship”. If they waited to approach me until they had composed the perfect sonnet about my beauty and faithfulness, I would be crushed.
Here’s a little bit about me. I’m a writer and a talker, a professional. One of my greatest loves is eliciting intense emotion from whomever comes in contact with me in person or via my writings. That being said, my 4 year old has shown me up despite all my training and attempts at eloquence by one phrase. He says it every time we get into an I love you war. It goes something like this:
Me-I love you Malachi.
Malachi- I love you more mama.
Me-No way, I love you all the way from the moon to the dirt.
Malachi-Yeah? (Pregnant pause while he lifts one eyebrow and shoots me his most serious expression) Well I love you forty dollars.
I love you forty dollars. What’s that about? For some reason, forty dollars is the largest amount that my son can imagine. It surpasses miles, time, and adult reasoning. Shakespeare could learn something from Malachi about passion. I certainly did as God held up the proverbial mirror that Sunday. What I saw in myself was not only judgmental, but alarmingly ugly. Who am I to mock the way his children show their love? Sorry to say that I would cause serious bodily injury to anyone who dared to do the same to my babies. I probably wouldn’t even repent. Thank God for His mercy. I deserve a lot harsher punishment than the tenderness of His whisper. The service ended. As I brokenly left that blue seat and went to gather my next heartbeats from the nursery, I faintly heard Him say, Madison? Yes Daddy? I love you forty dollars.
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July 06, 2006
Deleted User
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Tandyman reviewed Version 1 -
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Wow. What a delicate and precise piece! Excellent use of language and I liked the tone. You had me guessing there for a while as to what your point was but you wrapped up very nicely by the end and even managed to put on the pretty red ribbon. And such a poignant moment: “i love you forty dollars.” That is something my little niece would say to me.
Great job. Wish i could give you something more concrete but this was just really well done!
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kale reviewed Version 1 -
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I think that this story has really great potential. There are some great images, wonderful lines, and a fabulous humor and personality that wend all the way through.
However, there are some kinks standing in the way. First, you start this letter out as a 2nd person letter to god. However, at the end it has become a 3rd person account. The switch is a little messy. Also, in the second paragraph the switch from a removed letter to the church scene is very abrupt and disorienting. You have me very strongly with the first few lines, but then the capture wavered.
But I love the concept of “I love you forty dollars” and the line : “forty dollars is the largest amount that my son can imagine. It surpasses miles, time, and adult reasoning. Shakespeare could learn something from Malachi about passion.” Reminds me of that DIsney movie “what a girl wants” where they love eachother in a million red m&m’s or a million red sweedish fishes. :-)
Sangs reviewed Version 1 -
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I feel comfortable with your writing voice.
That being said, this piece is not really a short story. It’s much more like an essay. The closest you get to enough energy that could approach fiction is in the last paragraph, which might be a good place to start this if you were going to make it into a short story.
It’s unclear what the judgmental transgression was, but it has the scent of conflict and conflict and the reaction to conflict is what makes stories.
If you truly want to make this a fictional short story, I would suggest establishing the closeness of the family and then make something come along that threatens this family to it’s core. Then have the mother struggle back against that threat with everything she has, and when that’s not enough she digs down and finds even more to bring to the struggle until the threat is defeated and the close family stasis is restored or the opposite.
dwkeys reviewed Version 1 -
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Very nice. I really like the opening sentence. It immediately sets the mood for the rest of the piece. And thank you, thank you, thank you, for saving me from having to tell you how arrogant the first two paragraphs sounded, hehehe.
“the only other alternative I can concoct is how to efficiently paper cut myself to death with the offering envelope.” That’s funny!
The only thing I saw was the “At 3 o’clock” remark. One immediately thinks of the time, which tends to interrupt the mental flow (at least mine) the reader has established at this point. If it were me, I would consider using a compass direction instead. Like “Due east of where I sat, were some twenty-somethings…” But that’s just me.
The last line is awesome and brought a lump to my throat. Thanks for sharing.
Queen_of_Cups reviewed Version 1 -
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This was touching and eloquent – At first I thought it was going to be a rant but it twisted around to introspection and deep thought.
Faith, simple love, honesty.
I like how your wrote your thoughts out and although, the paragraphs are long, they work – I can’t think of anything to change, maybe some tightening of the sentences, merging them together…
The one thing that stuck out were the numbers… usually in a story, they aren’t typed numerically, but in words, “chanting mama at 110 decibels.” One hundred and ten. Like you did with the “fourty dollars.”
I adored the ending – it came at me quietly and left me smiling.
Well done!
April 28, 2006
Deleted User
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I enjoyed your story. Being a soldier most of my life I’ve never found it necessary to have walls around me in order to worship. I’ve scorned him, pleaded with him and even made deals with him all in the name of love and piece. Thank you for sharing your story.
Joz reviewed Version 1 -
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My only suggestions are about punctuation. There were some misplaced comas but that’s about it.
I love this piece. It’s honest and refreshing. You teach a lesson about judgement and your character shows growth and love for community.
The messages (of doing good) are strong in this piece. I admire how well you pull out the good from your children and thier actions, despite the hardships that you endure.
It is the perfect length. Perhaps this would be something for Readers Digest? It sure seems like a good fit.
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