One Warm Summer Morning
They were a charmingly dressed and coifed pair, wearing identically styled light pink summer dresses with lacy white edging on rounded flat collars and short sleeves. The little girl was ahead several paces, skipping her pink handled skip rope, swinging an arc over her head and below her shiny new black patent leather shoes. Stray curls escaped from her dark brown braids that flipped and swung with each hop and skip, hop and skip. A white haired woman followed slowly behind, hands folded together behind her back. Her glistening white hair was also braided, with braids coiled neatly around her head, a fluff of bangs curling loosely at her brow.
Calling out ‘Wait for me..’ she stopped briefly, reached out to cup a rose on a neighbors fence and, leaning carefully in, breathed deeply of it’s soft scent.
The sun was warm in the early morning casting their skipping, wandering shadows onto the lane beside the old wooden sidewalk. ‘Come on, Grandma. Here’s a hop scotch! You like to play hop scotch. Come on - I'll wait here for you.’
Watching this little scene from the balcony of my imagination, more details came into view - a picket fence, gravelled lane way, a robin on a corner post...........
“Imagination grows by exercise, and contrary to common
belief, is more powerful in the mature than in the young.”
~ W.Somerset Maugham
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