Katherine Nicolai

I thought of kids running through the vegetable patch,

A pack of family dogs racing with them.

Sparklers on the 4th of July.

A kitchen with rows of freshly canned pickles laid out on cotton towels.

A tree planted to mark a special day a hundred years ago that grew to the one I looked at now.

The house had a large wraparound porch, and although the stairs had a few missing boards, and the paint was chipped and faded, I could tell it had been a beloved place in its time.

I followed my nose to the large row of lilacs.

and put my gloves on and opened my shears.

The blossoms were so full and heavy that their stems struggled to stay upright.

I set my basket down and started to relieve them of their burden.

I took time to notice each small blooms.

drank deep the smell, and patiently waited for bees to shift from one flower to another.

I filled my basket till it nearly overflowed, and still the bushes seemed as full as they had when I started.

I kicked my way back down the drive.

and with a surreptitious look up and down the road, I smuggled my goods back into the car and made my getaway.

All that stealing had made me thirsty, and I was craving a cold brew coffee from a little café near my house.

I decided to bring my basket with me and found a seat at a tiny table outside.

I ordered my iced coffee with a bit of coconut milk and set my basket on the seat beside me.

I picked through the stems, making small bouquets,

and tying them up with the twine.