Lemon Leaves

     No man would think before giving an apple away to a little girl. Every little boy would fight with a weapon of glory; his wooden sword carved by his own two little hands, which are covered in grimy mud packed on from play...

     A Father tossles his son's hair as he acts out stories of triumph. The little boy's shadow extends across the room carried by the light of the crackling fire.  At the dramatic finale, gaped tooth smiles fill the room. Mother manages a teary-eyed laugh even though she has just reviewed the lacking budget for winter.
       Their days start at dawn and end after Mother goes to sleep.  The last thing she does is close the cedar panes, quenching light to the outside world. The remnants of a flickering candle waste away.Creak. Creak.  Worn out feet climb into bed as the last piece of blackened wick dissolves and falls onto the floor.
     "Good morning, dear ones.  Today is a special day," Mother's kind voice beckons her little ones.  
     Little feet, that somehow have dirt encrusted between toes climb down an old ladder.  Lily, the family dog, is enthusiastically eating last nights leftovers.  The children stare, Their mouths are gaping as they gaze upon bread, eggs, milk, and Mother's special strawberry preserves.  Father sits by Mother, his strong features approvingly motion toward the table. Abigail, the littlest one of the family, climbs back into her bunk area as her two twin brothers, Samuel and Jonathan, race outside.  Abigail returns carrying a stained mound of cotton cloth.  Her three year-old fingers gently caress a bright red apple as it peaks out from in between the fabric folds.  She hands it to her mother, who smiles graciously.  Soon after, Samuel and Jonathan return.  From inside a dirty metal bucket, they pull out a medium-sized slimy silver fish.  A strong odor enters the room as they close the front door.  Father laughs heartily as he studies his twin sons' feet.
    As the main feast preparation continues, Lily leaves her empty bowl and rests her head on Mother's lap.  Sarah ruffles the dog's fur as she stands to start a fire in the stove.  Two pieces of coal roll onto the floor as she tries to toss them in the rusted stove.  Samuel, Jonathan, and Father all race outside as Abigail helps Sarah picks up the shattered pieces.  The warmth of the final days of summer cause Sarah to stop. She picks Abigail up and follows after her husband, David.
     With eyes closed, Sarah is able to recognize on the wind, the smell of fresh strawberries even though the odor of rotten corn and dead flesh is still burning after the incineration  of illness.  Abigail hides her face in Mother's apron.  An ache begins to build in Sarah's heart. pound. pound.  It subsides as David and the boys come running.  The boys' toy swords are swinging high in the air as Father follows behind with a pile of branches, twigs, and brush.  Rustling branches snag the door frame as they all hustle back inside. It isn't long before Father has a small fire crackling in the stove.
      Mother is just finishing setting gleaming white plates as a knock is heard at the door. At first, David ignores it, but the next knock causes dirt to fall from the ceiling. While his heart longs for a peaceful banquet with his family, he turns and walks to the door.  A mountain of gray and brown rags with two dark clear eyes smiles revealing stained teeth.
     "I beg your pardon missus.  I was passing through and...I see I have interrupted an important meal.  I am a lonely man, you see...." the mass of a man quietly speaks.
     Abigail hurries over to the man. 
     "Grandpa! You are just in time.  I saved this apple just for you." A giggling Abigail jumps into the mountains of rags without hesitation. 
     "She is correct.  You are precisely on time," Sarah adds.
     "A first time for everything.  Better late than never," leaky eyes take in the warmth of the welcome.
     "I knew you would make it, sir," David ushers him in.  He whispers to Grandpa,"thank you."
     "Mama opened her special preserves!" Abigail is bouncing up and down enthusiastically.
     "I see that." Grandpa's semi-concerned face looks at Sarah and David.
     "Nothing but the best.  We must store up like little bears for winter, my dear ones." Sarah pulls her three children close.
     "Yes Mama!" All the little children agree as they look longingly at the cooking fish and eggs.
     "Absolutely," Father agrees.  His eyes meet with Mother's. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
     Laughs can be heard from inside the house as they invade the thick pungent summer air.  The flies, which congregated on rotten crops and dead animals seem to scatter as the offensive joyfilled sounds echo, moving the ground.  The laughs become louder and louder as the morning turns to afternoon.  A sweet and gentle air sweeps across the farm rustling the dead corn stalks.  Little green shoots can be seen poking out of the ground ironically protected by death. 
     The little green shoots quiver as the ground shakes.  A small dirty foot crunches down next to it and light falls directly on it for the first time.  Within inches of it, two brown eyes stare wide-eyed in unbelief.  They disappear in almost an instant.  crunch. crunch. crunch. Screams overshadow the sounds of dead brush. 
     "Father!!! Mother!!! Everybody!! Come see. Come see!!!" Jonathan's excited screams of laughter shake the silent hot afternoon.  The sweet and gentle breeze increases to a strong wind, which continues blowing death away.