A Thanksgiving Eve Prayer:  'Short Stories'

By Vanessa Sgroi © 2008

Dear God, 

This is Lily McLaren. 

Should I spell that for you? 

Mommy always says I should spell it out. 

Em—Cee—Captull El—Aay—Arr—Eee—En 

That’s how mommy does it. 

I’m sayin’ a prayer for my daddy. 

He’s a fireman.  And a pear—pear—pear-a-somethin’. 

Oh, wait!  You prob’ly already know that! 

I hope you’ll keep him safe, even—even though he’s a Christmas and Easter churchgoer—whatever that means. 

He says that and mommy punches him in the arm. 

Oops!  Don’t be mad at her!  It’s only like a pretend punch. 

Not like when Brody punches ME!  You can be mad at him. 

So can you keep daddy and Uncle Jason safe? 

‘Cause—‘cause—‘cause tomorrow is Thanksgiving. 

And I want ‘em to hear what I’m thankful for. 

Mommy says I can say grace tomorrow.  But last time I tried and said the words, “Grace Amen” at the table, everyone laughed at me. 

I don’t get it. 

Okay, daddy and Uncle Jason will be safe tonight while undoody, right? 

Oh, and God?  Sssh—don’t let mommy know but . . . but could you keep mommy’s turkey moist?  ‘Cause if it’s not, she always looks like she’s gonna cry. 

Aaaayyy—men! 

The End...

 

Sign the Guestbook