Beyond Strawberries

I've been pulling a Radio Flyer wagon up and down the street. It's not your mother's Radio Flyer wagon. No, our red wagon has backrests, cup holders and seat belts. It's made of heavy-duty plastic and will never rust. I spent a good part of Father's Day morning spraying a three year-old with a hose and afterwards decided it would be a good time to buy that sprinkler. I wrote a love letter, and a fan letter. I've gossiped. I listened to a voice mail from a brilliant woman doing 70 mph through Oklahoma. I made paella. And I deadheaded roses. I pulled weeds, and I sat in the shade of our pine tree. I thought about last year this time and remembered that Wendy sat under that pine tree with me and thought about Wendy--thought about how I should try to entice her up here again. I've read with interest the things people want: bees, bed frames, shingles. I've watched the finches swoop through the front yard and rest on the picket fence. I rocked on the double rocker on the front porch. I waved to my neighbors. I watched the grass grow. I listened. I've been thinking a lot about wind, breeze, gusts and gales.