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the backroads One, two, three, four...five? I count the little girl heads, tow-headed braids and ponytails, in the back seats of the robin's egg blue minivan. A mesh bag pokes up from the way-back, peeking round white soccer balls out the window. Eight a.m. Saturday morning, take the back roads to the ice rink and discover that even the youngest sporty girls are up and ready to play. :~: The smell of freshly cut grass, dewy in the gold morning light recalls fall soccer practices in years past, running through the fields chasing a ball in that neverending search for my first goal. :~: Driving with windows open, past the fields where the harvest has come but is mostly gone. A farmer's stand sells two and a quarter dollar 'lopes and I think to stop on my way back. Just ten minutes from our nation's capital. |
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