Marie Smysor Watson
blonde - 100 words
For the Big Boy... Jack of my heart!
He spends most of his days outside, underneath a tree, in a hammock, digging in the dirt, hovering over puddles like a dragonfly. Just as I did when I was young. Shirtless, as I did also, until my gender betrayed me. He is blonde, like I was. Will it darken as mine did? At this stage, anything is possible.
The cat is aloof - he loves it unrequitedly. They run into the dying sun, the young boy, the younger cat. Is he chasing it? I can’t say, only that he is running away from me.
I still have not caught him.