In My Backyard (with Ghosts)
Sometimes the grass rustles like you think it would. There’s a turn in the wind and the blades follow. They quiver, they faint, they rise again. It’s like this for days, and you watch. You want to predict the way they will sway and you do. Your attention has given you the gift of almost always right. Almost.
Sometimes the grass defies your expectations. The wind turns and the grass stands still. The wind stops and the grass wiggles. The wind picks up, and no blade moves except for your favorite. It breaks in half.
My mother wanted me to learn the flute. She sent me away every weekend for paid lessons, then listened to my rehearsal every night of the week. I made section leader in middle school, then high school. I played in the local orchestra. I went to college on competition money.
I hate the flute, but I’m not angry with my mother. There’s no way we ever would have been able to pay for my medical school without her foresight.
Like a Bike
My baby brother learned to ride his bike at age three. I watched him, then watched my training wheels rust.
Elise Kelly is a sophomore at Simon's Rock and The Weekly Cad's President and Director of Creative Publications.