She swept the yard every Saturday. The hard packed red clay had been swept so many times that the roots of the big oak were nearly a foot above the flat ground and snaked thirty feet down beside the house. It was easier work today. She bought a brand new broom from Sears and Roebuck just this morning. She was alone and she felt good.

As usual she picked up an assortment of toys as she swept. Abandoned here and there as more exciting adventures arose each day, it was her job to put things back in order.

The plastic music box she found under the swing belonged to the baby. She smiled at the thought of her. She wound the key. A popular little tune plinked from the bottom as she put it in her skirt and went back to sweeping. She continued to smile. It seemed she almost danced as she moved over the red earth. So it seemed.

About the Author

Gerald Cannon

I growed up po and ignant in Alabama. Then I went off to college and became a socialistic atheistic business school grad with an MBA. Not wanting to add evil capitalistic bastard to my resume, I obtained an antidote degree -the MFA. What a difference a letter makes. Now I teach college and make art. That's more fun and I'm less prone to drift toward the dark side. So, at the advanced age of sixty.... I have chosen mind over matter, joined the League of Defensive Pessimists and have no better answers, only fewer questions.

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