All the Pretty Girls

Forty-Three

He dug in the dirt like a carefree child, singing softly to himself under his breath.

“One little, two little, three little Indians…four little, five little, six little Indians…Don’t have the seventh or the eighth little Indian…but that’s okaaaaay for now!”

He spread the rich, loamy soil into the holes, then dusted off his hands and broke open a package of seeds he’d gotten at the local hardware store. Sprinkling the minute buds of life, he started to laugh. Pushing up daisies, literally. Really, he could be so funny sometimes.

He stood, brushing the dirt from his knees, and reached for a gentle misting hose. He started the water and stepped back to admire his newly sown garden. How very lovely.