A Walk

This is another scene from a memoir I wrote for school. This one is not in the final draft so I thought I would share it here. It probably would make a little more sense within the whole, but I hope it is understandable.

We stopped in New York state – the rural part of it, for a picnic and a long walk in a sun-drenched field. The hard dirt path was a canyon between the tall grasses, it reached above my head even higher than the marsh grasses behind our house.

“What's this?” My brother asked squinting down at me.

“This is Queen Anne's Lace.” I said fingering the delicate white array of flowers. “Look at the tiny black dot in the middle, that's how you tell.” I continued. He had just returned from his mission, and it was good to have him home.

He pointed farther down the path to another tall stand of flowers. “So this is it, right?”

“Yep.” I answered smugly, showing off for my brother, the one who's tall dark looks made everyone call him handsome. He had a quirky smile that took in the world, saw its weaknesses but still turned upwards, a little.

“How about this one?”

“Uh. I don't know” I hesitated, bending over another plant with trumpeting yellow flowers. “What's this Mom?” I called.

She walked back down the path toward us, my father trailing behind her.

“Oh, I've been wondering about that one too,” she followed my finger “I think it's called 'Butter an' Eggs'.”

“Butter an' Eggs” My brother and I echoed in unison “cool.” We listened as she continued to describe the little flower to us.

Like a butterfly I flitted along the path and among my family.

“Look at this snail.”

“Did you see the Tulip tree, the leaves look like a cup and saucer. It's super cool.”

“This is a beautiful walk.” My mom agreed.

My mind and words flitted from plant to plant and away from any impending future. Just because I ignored the future sometimes, it didn't mean it went away. That summer I saw my sister married. My brother went back to college in Utah in the fall, leaving only my youngest brother and I at home. All of his senior friends were my friends too. At the end of the year they graduated and went their separate paths. I was finally an only child. Like the last leaf on the tree I wondered when it would be my turn to fall, my turn to fly on the wind.