Below is my creative contribution to the weekly blog hop; you can find the prompt and the guidelines of how the blog hop works by clicking here. Enjoy!
“I’m king of the bean, Chicago style. Ain’t no one seen me ‘round for a while.
A reflection of me is all you see, yet I am
as real as can be.
I’m king of the bean, Chicago style. I’m holdin’ down the most magnificent mile.”
Rosie tapped her foot and plucked the fresh nylon strings under her thumb. She smiled in reminiscence of her father’s way with imaginative lyrics. Letting the bubbly tune permeate around her from her new six-string, she imagined her dad’s jazzy voice. It was velvety and zingy at the same time, like the way chocolate milk and 7-Up might mix together. His euphonious creativity with both words and melody fascinated Rosie from the time she was old enough to enjoy banging on pots and pans with cooking spoons. “King of the Bean” was always her favorite, even though they’d never been to Chicago.
“Tourists stop by and can’t imagine why there’d ever be such a thing to see
Sittin’ in the sun and multiplyin’ things by one, I’m showin’ the world forever in a silvery ton.
I’m king of the bean, Chicago style, makin’ history bigger than the great Nile.”
She let out a chuckle and strummed a bluesy interlude, letting the mood and melodic moment guide her fingers. Rosie allowed herself to get lost in the music and memory for only a moment before she remembered her audience. She looked out at the small crowd in the shady courtyard of Carmen Oaks Senior Living. Three of the residents were asleep, two were quietly chatting, and Mr. Lane was staring at her in a glazed expression. She knew she had caught his attention. She had hoped she would.
“Do you remember this song?” she called out to him. Rosie transitioned out of her interlude and strummed back into the melody.
He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes lit up the way a porch light welcomes one home in the middle of the night.
“I’m king of the bean, Chicago style. I’m snappin’ you a picture for your memory file.” Rosie sang the line softly and let the tune fade out.
“Hey, dad. I’ve been missing you. How are you today?” Rosie set down her guitar and moved to kneel in front of her father.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in California.”
“I moved back here last fall, dad. Remember? When mom passed. I come here to see you every other day.”
He glanced his eyes up to the trees as if trying to see the memory. “Doris,” he whispered. He looked back at Rosie with tears welling in his eyes.
“It’s okay, dad.” Rosie gave her dad’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey, I brought my guitar to play for your friends today. I’m singing the songs you taught me.”
“I don’t know how to play guitar.”
“That’s okay. I’ll play for the both of us.”
“Play what? Who did you say you were again?”
Word count= 496