“Dear God thank you for taking the time to hear me today. I know I don’t speak to you as often as I should … but I try … and you know all of the stuff I’ve got going on.”

“First, I want thank your for my health. As you know I’ll turn 70 in a few months and I want to thank you for all of the days you’ve given me but I’ve got a couple of questions. Not complaints mind you, just a couple of questions.”

“Before I begin I want to tell you that it looks like I dealt with that cardiovascular curve ball you threw me a couple of years back. A skilled cardiologist using angioplasty and a hand full of stents was able to open up that artery that I so ignorantly let get clogged. Now here’s my first question: Why didn’t you let me learn the evils of smoking and eating all of those cheeseburgers sooner when you’d given me inherently high cholesterol levels to begin with? I’m not complaining, I’m just asking, and while I’m at it I can’t help but wonder why you didn’t teach my dear departed mother ― oh and before I forget, Hi Mom! ― about these things when she was doing her best to feed me what she thought was a healthy diet ― a diet of red meat, fatty diary products and all of that gravy … oh her gravy?”

“Okay, here’s my next question. How many times did you get up to pee last night? I counted four times for me. Was this what you had in mind when you created us? The reason I’m asking is because when I saw my urologist about this and after he performed all of the routine tests ― and while I’m at it, you could have put our prostates in a more accessible place, but I don’t mean to complain ― you know what he told me. My prostate looks normal and is about the right size ― and here’s the key words ― for a man your age. When I hear ‘for a man your age’ it tells me that you designed in this feature or is this your idea of some sort of planned obsolescence. What were you thinking?”

“While we’re at it do you have something in store for me at some ungodly ― oops, I shouldn’t use that word ― outrageously early hour in the morning. You must, because you got me up at 4:45 again this morning just to say this little prayer. I’m not complaining, mind you, I’m just curious about what I should be doing at this early hour. I haven’t been able to figure it out, it’s still dark, the paper’s not here yet, there’s nothing on TV and NPR hasn’t even begun their day yet. I’ve got it; you must be telling me to buy a farm. Don’t farmers get up really early to feed their chickens? And, why dear God, do chickens have to eat so early?”

“My next question is about the hearing loss you’ve given me to endure. What did you have in mind when you took my hearing: to give me a little more peace and solitude, or to give me the ability to sleep on noisy airplanes, or maybe to help me cope with overly talkative older women. It must have been something like that, I’m sure? But my real question is, given my hearing loss, why, why dear God, did you let me marry such a soft-spoken woman? I haven’t heard a word she’s said in the last twenty years. Psst, was that part of your plan?”

“Okay, I’m up to the question that has been eating at me for years. First off, you made us in your likeness, right? And although I’m almost 70 you’re older than … than … I can’t think of anything clever because you’re older than everything. That’s it, since you’re older than everything and I was made in your likeness what’s up with this paunch, this spare tire, this beer belly, that you’ve so graciously bestowed on most of us older guys and how do you cope with yours? Do you find it difficult to keep your pants up when you’re not wearing robes and do find yourself ‘sucking it in’ when you see some hot babe and are you embarrassed to take your shirt off in front of a young and fit angel? Again, I’m not complaining I was just wondering if this paunch was part of some bigger plan that I’m not aware of.”

“Well that’s it for this morning; please look after my loved ones. You might keep a special eye on my grandson in New York City and oh yeah, thanks for giving my granddaughter a spot on the all star team and thanks for getting Linda through her surgery and healing her shoulder … now if you’d just do something about my …”

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One response to “A Prayer”

  1. buy plan b Avatar

    Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen is where I post the short stories that have been keeping up at night. I write to consume space on my hard drive much like the whittler who carves only to produce wood chips but something happened on my way to the fair. I actually got hooked and now I’m an overweight and out-of-shape nerd spending way too much time at my computer writing stories that few people will ever read. I write stuff that interests me at the time, mainly anecdotes from my wayward life, rants about all the things that piss me off, some things you might even find funny, some pure fiction and most recently a bit of historical fiction.

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