Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
The plastic bag is in the top of the tree. Three stories up. This distance means little to the two foot child under the tree, leaping with his hands up, reaching and stretching for the bag. Then calling, “Get down here,” as another tactic. His mother hails him in, as the afternoon is growing breezy and the bag is irreparably encased in branches far above even her maternal height.
He holds up a finger, a request for one final attempt. And with a loud tennis-player-grunt he extends, he jumps with all his energy. It’s barely a hop. An adorable one, but barely off the ground. At a loss, he strolls sullenly back as directed. His good mother grins and welcomes him into her arms, impressed with his good will and his great attempt.
–Colorado Springs, Colorado.