New Beginning, New Day

My Curious Mind

The expression on her face showed she had been walking for a long, long time.

The tiny lady carrying a huge shovel.

It dragged heavily behind her flexing her arm muscle so hard that I could see it bulge beneath her sweater. 

To be honest I heard her long before I seen her. 

screech, scrape, scratch, sounds gliding gently over the ground.

then every so often I would hear plonk. 

The shovel would fall from her hands, 

I seen the nice guy across the street ask her if she needed helped, she shook her head no.

She was almost home now I thought to myself, 

She wanted to see If she could do it all on her own.

She would wipe a tear of sweat off her face and make sure the strands of curly brown hair that was neatly tucked inside were not poking out.

She was near me now, before she looked like an ant in the distance

Carrying a forgotten crumb of food back to her home.

Only she could not eat a shovel and there was no snow on the ground.

As she approached I said " Nice Shovel" and smiled hoping for some kind of clue as to why she was laboring so hard to bring the lovely but heavy metal all this way home.

Her almond shaped eyes were a dark shade of turquoise and looked pretty with little sparkles in the center.

Her mouth was generously proportioned on her tiny face and had quite a lot of lip gloss smothering the natural beauty of her lips.

It colored her mouth an unnaturally rosy pigment.

She smiled a little smile and kept walking, saying loud enough for me to hear "Thanks"

My disappointed face was hidden by the darkness of the sun going down. 

The tiny lady stood the shovel up and opened her door before dragging it into her house.

My curious mind would go on wondering, Unsatisfied.

Many hours later, Inside my cozy, warm room I am reading one of my favorite books. 

One of those murder mysteries. 

I get excited as a child on a holiday even though I know all the hows, whats and why's of everything that is going to happen before I ever turn a page.

When I reach the end of the story,

even though one of my favorite fictional characters had died once again for about the thousandth time in my mind,  I laugh.

The main character probably never would have gotten caught if he would have had a shovel. But he had none.

I smile and think to myself It's better to have a shovel and not need one that to need one and not have it.