(pay no attention to it being Sunday)
It was a Saturday
.
We sit on the porch every Saturday.
PopPop brings out his lawn chair every morning where he holds court til supper. Nana swished hmmm out with the dust as she swept up after breakfast and won’t let him back before dusk. He’ll be invited back to take his place at the head of the table before us kids come swarming in after washing hands and filling in around him. We all behave , holding hands and saying proper grace. This will be as close to church as we get.
I pick apart the bright green turf grass from its black base and imagine the house I’d have when I grew up. My porch would surround my house with enough chairs for everyone. Some with plush pillows, at least one swing, a couple rockers, aluminum chair with pink and purple webbing I’d have special made, a wicker loveseat and a glass top table where the lemonade glasses would sweat leaving rings that the maid would wipe them away on Monday. There’d be a tire swing hanging from a giant Maple.
“ They say it’s the worst storm since…..” PopPop says to Rusty, the mailman, and brings me back to where I can smell the coming rain. There’s always going to be a storm marking the worst we can think of, and there’s always one off in the future that is preparing to replace it. It will crash through town leaving trees bowing behind it as apostles bearing witness to its strength.
I reconsider the tire swing and decide instead there will be a swingset over lush grass that will wiggle between your toes.
Without trees, it will never need to be raked!
Without raked leaves, there will never be a pile of leaves to jump in.
Percy and Jean walk by holding each other’s wrinkled hands. “Good day”, they say. I drop down off the porch to play hopscotch. I beg Jean to watch how good I’ve gotten. I’m hoping she’ll remember a lollipop she brought for me in her pocket. She praises me and says if I hop the whole board without a mistake, she’ll give me a reward. Bingo. The old men talk about the upcoming election. It’s an obvious choice they say. I hope that’s true.
As they walk away, I suck on my cherry lolly.
The wind kicks up and the hair on my arms with it.
10-12 400 words (Edit:deleted overage paragraph; left me with 12 words to finish)
