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Better than Fiction (creative non fiction)

The Husk of a Pecan


I called Grandpa one day to ask him what that thin brown hard divider in a pecan shell was called. He said he always just called it a pith like the pith of an orange. I told him that I thought that there had to be pulp to have pith and he replied okay then you can call it a husk. I laughed, I told him that he was the reigning pecan expert so if he says it is pith then it can be pith. He said he always just called it pith, but now he thinks it is more of a husk. I felt a bit like the little kid from the old Tootsie Pop commercials. Where his question gets answered but it is still strangely still unanswered. To this day I have no clue what it is called. But when I sit picking out pecans, I think of that unique man. The man with a glint in his eye, a song in his heart, and a love for the rich nut that laid just beneath the “husky pith.”

The Bluest Night


There had been three weeks without her; it seemed like she was still there in some ways. I sat reclined and watched him drive; there were a thousand things I wanted to say. My words stayed locked in and his eyes stayed frozen on the road. I asked if he wanted some music . . . maybe music would help ease us both. My chilled finger reached for the knob and pressed play on the CD changer. Willie Nelson’s “Blue Eyes Crying in Rain” came on. The song moved him powerfully, his tears fell in torrents. I chose to speak and he said that he just wanted to cry. I sunk back into myself utterly and completely helpless. She was gone, his future, his investment, his love, and he was left with me. He must have felt angry, but I felt guilt. I cried inside my spirit; I thought I should have died. I wonder if he thought that too. I wondered how long the pain would last. I wondered how long would his blue eyes cry. How was I supposed to manage my pain alone? Just three weeks ago his entire life changed . . . but all I wanted was to fix it. I dried my tears and held myself tight. Tonight was the first road trip to Alabama without mom, but it felt like the first day without a her at all.

Aragon Baggins

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