The Sower (Pt III)

Then, her eyes ran over the dirty faces of her children. Using the skirt of her wine colored dress, she wiped away their filth. “Clean yourselves up. We have a guest,” she commanded and the little ones bolted to the vine house.

“My children needn’t clean for me,” the sower chimed in. He was most flattered by his wife's gesture. He leaned in, to press a kiss against her hot forehead, but she dodged him.

“It isn’t for you,” she answered icily. The sower paused at her words. Who could this guest be? His wife beheld his cart of vegetables in astonishment.

“Ah, see! Didn’t I tell you my labor would pay off,” the sower laughed. She didn’t answer, quietly settling her gaze into the distance. Now an anxiousness had pressed against his chest. What awaited them, he did not know. The wind also hinted of the unknown storm.

His wife hastened inside to prepare for the new visitor. She ran her fingers through her matted hair and softened it with shampoo. Her hands groped her new, yellow dress. She sacrificed everything she owned. Yet, her world was growing divine. Her mind fancied herself in a golden gown with a satin train. She witnessed the rouge in her cheeks blossoming like sweet raspberries. And how glorious were her dark, long tresses dropping to the earth. Her dreams were vivid now and she tasted them on the tip of her tongue.

The great roar of a car engine interrupted her thoughts. She ran out to meet the metal contraption. The sower watched in horror as the truck sputtered in the direction of his wife. It stopped abruptly and a stranger climbed out, donning a cowboy hat. His wife gave a hearty hello and embraced him while the sower settled back and chewed his thoughts.