Wild Chives

Out the window there was a graceful tree, flowering in the sunlight. And inside Lola was smiling. The waves on the lake were making white peaks, thrown by the same warm breeze that waved the tree. And Lola was watching the tree, snug up in her bed, smiling. A southern breeze meant spring and in spring there was hope.

In her mind she was pulling on her mud boots and stomping through fields on the watch for new streams. There would be headwaters, born by snow melt and waterfalls with small pools. In the cow pasture she would fling off her boots and splash knee deep in the cold water, chilling her toes. She would be happy. The newness of the spring would wrap around her and lift her up.

In her room Lola lingered between soft sheets. In her mind she wanted to hold the reminder that life can be wild and new.

Outside a siren began its long howl as it moved up the street and a bus rumbled by carrying the morning's first commuters. The rumble shook Lola' room and the little flowering tree outside. And inside Lola thrust her feet onto the cold waiting floor.