CHARLES LENNOX - grocery list


charles lennox

She looked up from the paper. The boy had become a four-legged animal, running the yard in circles. The dirt he kicked up plumed slightly in his wake then settled back down. He chased a dragonfly ‘til it flew over the fence line. She knew his blood was wild, not of her body.

“And what are you supposed to be?” she asked.

“A lion,” he said, sitting at her feet.

“What about me?” she said. “What am I?”

“You’re mommy,” he said.

“Can I be something else for a little while? Something exotic,” she said. “Like a horse.”

“No,” he said. “You’re mommy. You’re always mommy.”

He stood without effort and ran to the opposite end of the yard, arms extended like a bird, flapping, leaping every few steps, a new being entirely. She watched him and sipped her tea. She went back to the paper, pen in hand. She wrote out her grocery list.

Charles Lennox
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