Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

Go Fish

Go Fish

This evening marked year two of "Trunk or Treat" at the church down the road.

Which reminded me of something that happened on Year One that made me laugh for days afterward. I'll capture the story here in the likely case I forget all about it until next Halloween.

The last family in the parking lot had turned their mini van into a fishing booth. They'd hung a  shower curtain over the open trunk. The dad stood outside the van and helped kids lower a fishing rod with a plastic bucket behind the shower curtain to collect their treat. 

We waited in line for our turn to "go fish." My son was three at the time. When our turn came, his bucket came up empty. The father banged on the side of the van and instructed us to try again. My son cast the rod a second time, and let it dangle there a good minute or two.  When he finally pulled it up, the bucket overflowed with treats. The kids in line behind us gasped. We'd hit the motherlode. 

The father's face flushed. This was obviously not part of his plan, but he wasn't about to snatch the candy away from my overjoyed three-year-old. 

"Don't you do that again," I heard him whisper behind the curtain. 

A little voice responded: "BUT DAAAAAD!" 

My son quickly collected his prize. We made our way back to the car. The poor kids behind us in line were going to be disappointed with their catch.

The same van was there for this year's Trunk or Treat, in the same spot, with the same tropical shower curtain. The family had traded a fishing booth for a ring toss. But they were still generous with their treats. A big package of Swedish fish. My four-year-old was thrilled.

297/365

Barry and Brunetti make satisfying bedfellows.

Barry and Brunetti make satisfying bedfellows.

Life, Abstracted

Life, Abstracted