by stillcrazy

Created on: November 13, 2008

The morning wasn't sunny enough for raking and the fall air had an icy bite, but Lorene needed something to do. Ordinarily, she never raked leaves. That's one of the benefits of living out in the country, she reminded herself as she grabbed the rake from the shed. Falling, swirling, tumbling leaves gave the place character and warmth.

She started under the live oak that shaded the front of the house. Her bedroom window looked out on it and she'd sit there many days, gazing past the pane to the tire swing hanging from a knarled branch. A smile lifted the wrinkles on her face. The girls had been gone for years, but their memories were carved into the landscape. Everywhere Lorene looked, she saw them, heard them. Sometimes, it made her sad. This morning, her heart hummed like a songbird.

A wind approached from the north, lifting and scattering the leaves Lorene had scraped together, but she didn't care. Sweeping the yard wasn't her goal. She didn't care one iota if the leaves stayed neatly piled or not. She just wanted to move her old, creaking bones under the autumn sky.

Overhead a flock of geese honked. Lorene stopped and glanced up. Of all natures' sounds, this was her favorite. If she was in the house and heard them, she'd run outside and watch until they disappeared. Once when the girls were small, they stood out in the field and counted almost twenty different flocks carrying on all at the same time, high above them. It was early spring then and the graceful birds were all headed back north.

Lorene didn't allow the memory to settle. She went back to raking, this time, putting more elbow grease into it. When she took her first break, she had several piles stacked around the yard, but none were meant to stay. The wind had grown diligent and colder. She leaned on the rake and pushed back a strand of gray hair. In the distance, a cranky tractor clattered and pushed against the soil.

Mel Crowder was mowing his hay field. Good day for it, Lorene thought. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes around the earthy scent of fresh mowed hay wafting in the wind. That brought back memories, but she didn't dare sit at their feet. She'd never get anything done, entertaining memories all day long. Raking again, Lorene wondered if farmer Crowder churned up old memories whenever he mowed a row. The idea made her chuckle. He and Ida didn't have to remember. They had their five children living around them. They weren't out of state like her two girls. And they had each other. Her

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