A Typical Summer Sunday at Noon

The slapping of flip flops on hot pavement

Adjacent to the driveway, a sprinkler squirts water droplets

Flying through the humid air,

Landing peacefully on what remains of the morning due

On the brick stoop, Mom sits replanting her orchids

Feeding them

Encouraging them to grow strong

Maybe with multiple flowers

As if they were her own children

The door swings open, and my youngest sister walks out

She is holding a lidded water bottle

Almost empty

One drop away from becoming a pile of shattered glass

Approaching Mom, she fails to notice

The soiled mess

The grime soaking in between her toes

She perches like some sort of exotic bird

Watching Mom’s craftsmanship

Two figures walk out from the backside of the house

A girl wearing gardening gloves

A slight dusting of dirt

Covering her forearms

She is holding a basket of assorted produce

Lettuce and kale

Dad is beside her

He removes his earbuds

And wipes sweat clean from his brow

A look of exhaustion settled in

Inhaling the pungent

Scent of cut grass

We all gather around Mom

Watching her

Small yet productive

Soil-filled fingers work

From a glance in the kitchen window

I realize the time

What’s for lunch— I ask,

Everyone looks toward me

In unison, they reply,

Well, what are you making?

— Paige Smagala