The Old Man and the Jar
An old pickle jar. Polish pickles. Those juicy, crisp and sour things that I never eat anymore. Give me too much gas. When I was a boy I would eat them by the jar full. And sauerkraut. How I loved sauerkraut. Still do. But this jar is empty. No more pickles. Nothing in there.
I set it on the table. The sun streams into my tiny apartment and hits the glass with a loud and bright yellow. Maybe I should go outside and puts some ants in there. Put some dirt in there too. A few leaves, maybe a twig. Build up a nice little ecosystem. Then I’d watch the ants for hours, instead of looking at an empty jar. Pontificating about what could have been. It’s just a stupid old jar that once had delicious crunchy pickles.
Maybe I’ll take the jar over to Ms. Wrinkles. Ask her for some sugar. Then I’ll say something witty and smart and she’ll laugh. Then she’ll invite me in for some tea. Invite this old smelly man inside. But I still got that raspy cough. And I’d cough and she’d look worried. Ask me if something is wrong.
Is something wrong, Roger? Yes, it is, Ms. Wrinkles. I’m an old man, stuck in his apartment with stacks of old magazines and books as my only company. Why don’t I get a dog or a cat, Ms. Wrinkles? Well, I think I just might but my old dog died a few months ago. Should I have gotten one right away after that? No, see I’m strange. I want to mourn her passing. Really feel the pain. And I have. I cried many nights. I looked at the phone and I cried—I wanted to call someone but like my whole life, I hesitated. I hesitated to pick up the phone. I hesitated to come over here, Ms. Wrinkles. And still, I sit. Staring at this empty mason jar.
Been sitting on this freewrite for a week and half and since the last one went over fairly well I opted to finally post it. The prompt was mason jar.
Wow. This is powerful. <3 Hesitating... it makes me wonder how many relationships I've missed out on because of hesitating. (I'm sure there are a lot, because I'm very much like this when it comes to relating to other humans!)
Great freewrite!
I have as well, more times than I'd like to admit. I think we all do it to varying degrees and in different areas of life and that's kind of what I wanted to capture.
Thank you for the thoughtful comment @byn.
The possibilities in an empty pickle jar! I think @yahialabadibi could tell you more on that subject ;)
These are the kinds of thoughts that go through my head at about a thousand per second. I learned later in life that they call that anxiety :D
I love it! It has such a solid story for a freewrite.
Thank you @caleblailmusik!
And yes, you could view his regret and hesitation possibly fueled by anxiety.
Thanks again for reading and leaving such great comments :)
You're welcome! I'll keep it up if you do ;P
Ohhh, I love this, love it love it - how spot-on, how you capture the point of view of this lonely old man ("Deep POV" - this is a classic example of it!).
You pack so much into a few little paragraphs. I love the pictures he creates in his mind, perhaps planning to carry them out, only to think up reasons not to - and so to stay where he is, alone, with that empty jar.
And this began as one of @mariannewest's 5-minute Freewrite prompts.
Fantastic! Keep writing! And keep posting--instead of sitting on these links for a week and a half (like the man staring at his pickle jar) :-)
Thank you for the encouraging words @carolkean!
I've done other freewrites but they just haven't gone as well--there's a certain flow+vivid mental picture that seem to bring out the good ones. Hopefully I tap the writing muse for more of those, and post them quicker :)
Pickles: The Sour Taste of Regret 🥒
haha - now that's a great title :)