By Prospero Dae
A small house on a cul-de-sac. The garden, though lovely, is a work in progress.
A resourceful father and his teenaged daughter stand in a pool of sunlight. She—as delicate as a Japanese maple, silky-haired, blue-eyed—is brashly chewing gum. The air is redolent of freshly cut greenery (and sickly sweet bubblegum—much to the author’s dismay).
Snip. Snip.
“Dad. What are you doing?”
“It’s called arbosculpture.”
“Why don’t we have a gardener?” She turns her head. A voluminous plume of hair follows dutifully.
“DIY. We save a bundle.”
“Actually looks decent. You’re awesome with the scissors.”
“Good. You’re next.”
Yes, you’re next, my bubble gumming little naiad, but first I shall turn you into a laurel tree…..
Darn good story, Prospero. Like the way you use contrasts, like “delicate as a Japanese maple” but “brashly chewing gum” and the smells of “freshly cut greenery” and “sickly sweet bubblegum.” Ah, and that gentle promise/threat at the end was masterful!
I once had to cut bubblegum out of my daughter’s hair. I can see this situation – your story – quite clearly but more importantly I can smell it. I love the smell of a good story.
Sounds like real; not made up. Liked it!
This was a wonderful and charming slice of life!