Papa’s Boots

Papa’s Boots

Trowel in hand, head tilted back, eyes looking up toward heaven, Terri took in a deep breath.  The smell of new-mowed grass turned up the corners of her mouth.  She glanced down at Adele, a miniature version of her.  Eyes closed, nose toward the clouds, Adele took a big whiff in, exhaling with a puff.

“What do we smell mama?”

“Take another whiff Adele and tell me what you see.”

Adele closed her eyes again, turned her head up to the right, took a deep breath and exhaled exclaiming, “Wow, I see Papa and me.  When I was little, he used to let me sit on his lap and we would cut the lawn together.”

“You remember that?”

“It’s one of my best memories.  Do you think Papa is riding his lawn mower in heaven?”

“He just might be; Papa loved being outside in his yard.”

* * *

“Ready to plant our spring flowers,” Terri asked Adele.

“Let’s do it,” Adele exclaimed, garden tools and gloves in hand.

“It might be a bit muddy, why don’t you put on your rubber boots.  I think they’re in the storage shed.”

Adele returned wearing her rubber boots, carrying an old pair of work boots.

“What have you got there?” her mother asked.

“Aren’t these Papa’s boots?”

“Why yes they are.  What do you want to do with them?”

“I think Papa would want us to put his boots in the garden.  He can be outside where he loves it and we can visit him anytime we want.”

“Let’s do it,” Terri uttered, a catch in her tools 1




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