She looked out the window, seeing her future there, across the gardens path; the heat of the summer, plying at her skin and hair, but the breeze of the hot afternoon blowing her trepidation’s away and the smell of fresh grass that her father cut, permeated her child-like thoughts, and perplexed her for an instant.
She had to stay in, her mother had said, be out of the way, out from the mowers blades, away from the rocks it would throw, wear her dress and be so cool and sit there, for just a few moments, on the table, up where she could see, feel the air and smell the smells.
The music was playing from the radios speaker, soft mess of notes, and spinning thoughts, all on her mind, catching her between a grin and a tiny minute of sadness, as she couldn’t play, but her two year old self could watch and be a part of her daddy’s world, and worry not for the minutes time.
Her feet, she felt, were such a thing, that she infringed upon the extra warm day, by sticking them out the window, as feeling the leather of her tiny shoes on her feet, crossing the line. She felt her self being happy, felt the key to her heart being like the key on the wall, big enough to keep it going and watching her daddy mow.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Raymond A White Jr
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