It’s Wednesday. Wordsmith.org probably published a great word of the day today, but I wouldn’t know. I am currently south of the Mason-Dixon line, sipping as much sweet tea as I can get my hands on, reviving my southern drawl, and loving my family I haven’t seen in a very long time.

Access to a computer is limited, and time with family precious. So, here’s a rewrite of a quick write I wrote last spring on my draw from a word bag: falling.


Dollar in. Dollar out.
Dollar in. Dollar out.


I un-crease the corners.

Dollar in. Dollar out.
Dollar in. Dollar out.

“Come on.”

I rub the dollar along the edge of the machine in a heated effort to straighten it.

Dollar in.
No return.
I roll my eyes.


My stomach grumbles as I scan the rows, bottom to top. There, A2, bag of Munchos — salty like pork rinds but a lot less cruel.

I press the “A” and ignore the committee in my head as they shout.

Trans fats!
High blood pressure!

My stomach flip-flops with hunger pains and a fluttery reminder of the walnut-size baby growing in my belly.

She wants those munchos as much as I do, I justify as I punch “2.”

The metal spiral holding the bag begins to turn, turn, turn, loosening its grip. The bag leans to the left and slips, but not enough.

I lean towards the glass.
The turning stops.
The bag sticks.

Heat rises from my gut to my face and I place my sweaty palms on the vending machine.

The Munchos taunt me — a hungry, pregnant woman in desperate need of some salt. My palms slide down and I turn away. Dejected, I walk back down the hallway to my office, where the yogurt I arrogantly shoved aside waits for me, patient in its offering.


2 responses to “Falling

  1. Great description & tension – we’ve all been there (although I’ve been known to attempt to tip the machine to shake loose my snack).

    Enjoy your family, have a great holiday.

  2. Thanks, Cathryn! Hope you had a lovely holiday as well.

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