SOLD - scott riley irvine

We take turns drawing the curtains. My grandmother puts too much water in the coffeemaker and opens them before walking out of the kitchen. She forgets that the boy living down the street will see them open, think we’re home, and bring us rusty watering cans he had found in the woods. We tell him we’re not in the market for such things.

I’ve followed a blue jay down the street now for several weeks. He introduces me to neighbors. He teaches me how to string barbed wire around trees in order to ward off bears. He compliments my red mittens. He asks me how such a young man can live at such high altitudes. I ask him if he’s interested in collectible ballerinas in fair condition. He cuts the rounds short and walks me home.

There is a rock in the living room that Uncle Mike had lifted from the creek. On one side, in marker, it reads ‘Please flip me over.’ On the other ‘Thank you.’ We had tried to sell it, but Pastor Charles was doing a similar project out of his garage.

Scott Riley Irvine
Lance Olsen