happyhugo
copyright (C) 05/15/11
Romance/ True/ Tears
286 words
A Brattleboro, Vt Tale
Readers score 7.55
Thoughts over the loss
of a loved one
The first sign of spring to me may come long before the calendar says it has. A warm sunny day in February while walking under the maple tree in my front yard that has some broken branches gets my attention. Sap is running from the wounded tree and drops on my head. Above me, a skinny little red squirrel is on the underside of a limb and poised to catch a few drops of sap. His tail is twitching furiously. That night it is cold and the squirrel is back in the morning, this time licking the icicle that has formed for the super sweetness.
Maybe it is the calendar itself coming to the twenty-first of March and telling me my sister is one year older.
It could be the scrawny dark deer that comes to the bare green spot in the field where the snow has receded. That will be their first taste of green grass and if there are many deer, by nightfall there is just a patch of mud.
It could be my wife asking every day as I came back from getting the paper from the mailbox if the pussy willows are out yet. I would look every day and say, “Not yet.” Then she would forget one day to ask and I would present her with several stems with just the barest hint of emerging white fuzz.
This year she wasn’t here to ask. I picked them anyway and you can see the stems and one small root pushed into the ground by her cold gray stone. Yes, and someday she and I together may become part of The First Sign of Spring
The End
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