Adriana.K.Maxwell
He had a cat on his shoulder. That was what stood out the most, not the baggy worn-grey hoodie or the quiet way he spoke. No, there was a yellow-orangish, cantankerous cat that snarled when anyone else came near but kept pushing herself against the boy, causing his shoulders to drop back down from his ears.
Juice drips sticky from the oranges, face down on the tray, leaving circles on the wax paper. I pull off my gloves and wash my hands, quickly dry on brown paper towel, and slip on another pair of gloves, and turn to the bread.
Under the house in Can-eo, Ate Bella sits at her loom. Shuttles clack as the threads are pushed into place.
The seed sleeps in soil as the wind howls above it, as the snow falls and melts, as the rain comes and the geese return home, as the children jump in puddles.
Lift me up on your shoulders. I'll duck under the branches and point out the shiny rocks. I'll feel tall enough to climb mountains while we wander in Michigan woods.
Now, I'm in the valley under the cold shadow of the mountains, I can't see the tops anymore through the mist and I miss the sky.
Wool, pull the wool over their eyes, let them become tired and cozy, close their eyes to whatever else you might be doing, because sometimes being out of their comfort zone is better than being out of sight.
Crunch, leaves underfoot, frost-lined grass, and the scrape, scrape of my windshield, my breath like a dragon's cloud rising, fingers in pockets, scrunched up body, trying to stay warm
I'm lying in bed trying to gather energy to face the day, lying in the sun, trying to soak it in, absorbing it from the grass, trying to keep going, keep it focused.
The shopping cart with the squeaky wheel rests now in a corral of its own kind, watching the sunset over the Walmart parking lot, munching on forgotten receipts.
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