No Big Thing

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]’ve always believed something big would happen to me. And the truth is, I haven’t wanted to believe that. But the belief is one passed down from my mother. She told me to always keep my eyes open, to wait for that thing. “It’s on its way,” she’d say.


I’m sorry Mother, it’s been thirty-three years and nothing’s happened yet.

I’m not famous, I’m not rich, and I didn’t win anything. In fact, I’ve never won anything. I’ve never even traveled outside the U.S – unless you count Tijuana. And the most notable thing I’ve ever done was stay awake for two days. But that was only because my truck broke down outside Possum Trot, Alabama.

Let’s see, what else.

I didn’t have many girlfriends. And the ones I did have thought I was boring. I know this because they told me so. You know what else is boring? I grew up on a boring farm where I milked goats.

That’s right.


More about me: I’ve never eaten a filet mignon, I hate scotch, and sometimes, I still sit down to pee like my mother taught me.

Course of habit.

I’ve owned a handful of mutts, one car, seven trucks, and totaled three. Trucks, not dogs. I love liver and onions, and Spongebob Squarepants, too. My back is covered in unsightly hair, and I get gout sometimes. I talk with my mouth full, and I’m pretty sure I snore. Big things don’t happen to people like me.

And I’m happy they don’t.

Because I’d be miserable if they did.

1 comment

  1. Gloria Rumph - February 17, 2019 5:36 pm

    Loved this story!


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