By Lorry Myers
I am always eager for my friend Marley to come play. Marley is the ten-year-old daughter of dear friends; I have cradled her and cuddled her, and been manipulated by her since the day she was born.
I love her like she is my own.
When Marley comes to my house, sometimes we play in the yard, sometimes we make crafts, sometimes we sing and dance. Every minute I spend with Marley, I forget about work and the world and the worries of our country. This little girl has a way of showing me the lighter, loving side of life.
She is much smarter than a fifth grader.
I turned off the TV before Marley arrived and vowed to forget about politics and promises and the people who are fighting to win my vote. I am weary with new laws, old views and the lack of cooperation between the elected officials who should be cooperating the most.
Marley is the perfect distraction.
I had an event to attend that night which required taking a dish to share, so I ask Marley to assist. Marley is very good help in the kitchen because she thinks cooking is fun. I, however, am not good in the kitchen nor do I think that cooking is fun.
That’s why I need Marley in my life.
“What are we making?” Marley asked, way more excited than I was. She was dressed in an outfit she had put together herself, some sort of creation out of denim that was very fashion forward. Her hair was pulled into a messy-bun, which Marley explained, is purposely styled to look that way.
Marley is cool like that.
When I told her we were making “Pink Fluffy Stuff”, Marley stared at me like surely, that was something I had made up, and of course, she was right.
“Ok,” Marley sighed, showing her skepticism. “First get out all the ingredients.” Since I almost always do what Marley says, I brought them out.
All two of them.
“Where is the rest of the stuff?” Marley asked, incredulous when she only saw a box of strawberry Jell-O and a tub of whipped cream. She then went on to inform me that when she cooks with her grandmother, they use lots of bowls and pans and flour and sugar and pizza sauce.
“Are you sure two ingredients will work?”
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard