6.1.11
The first day of June.
“Look at the trees, Papa. They’re purple!”
“Yes, sweetie, they are purple. Come on, don’t dilly-dally. Mommy’s waiting for us.”
“O.K., Daddy, can I just pick up one flower from the purple tree? There’s so much on the ground.”
She went under the tree, picked up one of the small blossoms on the dewy ground, feeling the wet flower on her fingers. She pulled the blossom apart, leaving only the innards- bare and exposed.
“Come on, sweetie, we need to go. Pick up your pace. Hold my hand.”
She dropped the flower on the ground, and stepped on the blossoms that lined the floor. One step at a time, she felt the squishiness beneath her feet, as if she were walking on a kind of carpet. Looking under one of her shoes, she saw that there were flower bits all over the bottom. She scraped the flower bits off on the curb.
“Daddy, can we have purple trees in our backyard? I want to have a purple tree.”
“Sure, sweetie. You can have a purple tree.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, of course. Now, come on, keep up.”
So, she ran to catch up with her father who was now three feet ahead of her. She walked two steps for every one of his large strides, walking doubly fast to keep up with him, and she held his hand.
