A Boy's Surprise
by J.C. Moonx
The man sat in the porch fanning himself with his hat, his feet propped up on a wooden crate. His eyes ventured far across the yellow hills. The wind grew stronger and smelled of damp earth.
“Auntie,” he yelled into the house, “come look.”
An old woman walked out and a boy of about twelve years followed, kicking a ball as he went. It began to rain.
“It’s about time,” the woman said. “What’s it been, six, seven months?”
“Something like that.”
The woman stood with her hands on her hips watching the rain come down.
“I’ll sweep the driveway,” she said and walked inside.
The boy kicked the ball back and forth across the porch. Then the woman returned with a broom, and wore a hat and a large plastic bag with holes for her head and arms. She began to sweep the cracked driveway.
“You look funny,” the boy said laughing.
“I love rain. I remember playing in it for hours and hours when I was a little girl.”
She continued sweeping. The boy mishit the ball and it rolled to within several feet of the woman. Without hesitating, she kicked the wet ball to the boy and went back to sweeping. The man laid his hat down on the bench, next to where he sat.
“How old’s that hat of yours?” he said to the boy.
“Don’t know.”
“Looking pretty old. What do you say we go into town and get you a new one tomorrow?”
“Can I?” the boy turned to the woman.
She looked up.
“How’s your reading?”
“Almost done.”
“You sure?”
“Just like six more chapters.”
by J.C. Moonx
The man sat in the porch fanning himself with his hat, his feet propped up on a wooden crate. His eyes ventured far across the yellow hills. The wind grew stronger and smelled of damp earth.
“Auntie,” he yelled into the house, “come look.”
An old woman walked out and a boy of about twelve years followed, kicking a ball as he went. It began to rain.
“It’s about time,” the woman said. “What’s it been, six, seven months?”
“Something like that.”
The woman stood with her hands on her hips watching the rain come down.
“I’ll sweep the driveway,” she said and walked inside.
The boy kicked the ball back and forth across the porch. Then the woman returned with a broom, and wore a hat and a large plastic bag with holes for her head and arms. She began to sweep the cracked driveway.
“You look funny,” the boy said laughing.
“I love rain. I remember playing in it for hours and hours when I was a little girl.”
She continued sweeping. The boy mishit the ball and it rolled to within several feet of the woman. Without hesitating, she kicked the wet ball to the boy and went back to sweeping. The man laid his hat down on the bench, next to where he sat.
“How old’s that hat of yours?” he said to the boy.
“Don’t know.”
“Looking pretty old. What do you say we go into town and get you a new one tomorrow?”
“Can I?” the boy turned to the woman.
She looked up.
“How’s your reading?”
“Almost done.”
“You sure?”
“Just like six more chapters.”
For a moment the woman said nothing. She attacked a deep crack in the driveway, sending mud and gravel flying into the air, saying finally, “Okay.”
“After breakfast tomorrow,” the man said.
The boy kept kicking the ball back and forth. Several times it rolled down the driveway and every time the woman kicked it back. When the woman finished sweeping, she walked back to the porch. “Beautiful day,” she said and went inside.
“After breakfast tomorrow,” the man said.
The boy kept kicking the ball back and forth. Several times it rolled down the driveway and every time the woman kicked it back. When the woman finished sweeping, she walked back to the porch. “Beautiful day,” she said and went inside.
For almost half an hour the man sat gazing off into the distance undisturbed by the playing boy. Then something caught his attention. Far down the little dirt road someone approached, blurry, slowly coming into focus, carrying a suitcase in each hand. After what felt like minutes, the man was able to at last remove all doubt as to who it was, though in his heart he had known immediately it was she. In disbelief, he stood up and reached for his hat.
