LesleyLSmith
Stories
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 May's Flowers
| by Lesley L. Smith At sunrise, my fields of sunflowers looked totally normal as I rode by them on my bike. I almost smiled when I saw their cheerful yellow heads nodding in the soft golden light. They were about a week from harvest, and I couldn't wait. | |
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My flowers were anything but normal. When those jokers at the biodiesel plant realized their oil content, they were sure gonna be surprised. Dang it, but they were gonna fall right on the floor, they'd be so surprised. I loved that Joint Genome Institute and the way they shared genetic codes! Oof! My knees complained as I hit a pothole. Stupid supplements weren't working anymore, and my arthritis was killing me. Watch where you're going, old woman! After what felt like too long, but was only a few blocks, I pedaled up to the diner in town and hobbled inside. "Good morning, May," that overly perky waitress, Staci, said as I went to my table. As usual, I was the first one in the diner. Folks just didn't have a work ethic anymore--of course, most folks around here were out of work, so that might have something to do with it. I scowled at Staci. She was always flapping her gums, and judging by what she said, she didn't have the good sense God gave a dog, or a sunflower for that matter. "Aw," she said in a sing-song tone. "Is your arthritis bothering you again?" My late momma taught me a lady does not brag on her health problems. "None of your business." I sat down slowly. "I'd just like to order, Staci, if it's all right with you." She pursed her lips and looked at me for a few seconds. Finally she held up her pad and pencil. "Fine. What do you want?" "The usual," I said. "What a shock! You could just knock me down with a feather," Staci said. "Oatmeal, fresh fruit and a cup of chicory." She wrote it on her pad. "Didn't your momma teach you not to disrespect your elders, Staci?" I said with a scowl. "You need to get yourself some manners." She opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she turned around and walked back to the kitchen. I sat at my table and looked out the window. Town looked real peaceful this time of day. No folks out and about; no bikes or horses or dust in street. Staci plopped down my cup of chicory and turned and walked away. Speaking of dogs, who was coming up the road but my neighbor, that old rascal Ramone and his golden lab, Missy, too. I turned from the window and leaned away from it. Hopefully he wouldn't come in here. Read the entire story: May's Flowers (pdf)
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