The Slow-Cooked Sentence

Whack goes
the bat. Off spins
the pinata, spilling
the sweet contents of my life on
the floor.

Life is moving fast.

Too fast.

If I can concentrate 24 hours into a single sentence it would go something like this:

One of my sister’s arrived with her 2-day-old baby to witness another sister marry, and in the middle of the ceremony our dad collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, but recovered quickly enough to return to the reception in time for the father-daughter dance.

Whew.

“This is like a movie,” my sister-in-law said.

And everyone cried. And everyone cheered. And everyone laughed.