paper rings (l.h.)

2

Each day was the same around here.

The sun casted it's light down on the Earth the same way each morning when I was awake before my Grandma's senior rooster could wake us up. I drank my warm tea in silence like I always did before work, taking in the birds as they sang in the branches of the trees above my Grandma's property, and the way that the old garden gate creaked in the breeze that swept the land. It shook the branches, and swayed the dense, green leaves that shielded me from the harsh summer sun. It was nearly 6:15 AM, and the sun had barely graced the pink sky. But the air was thick and muggy, my bare shoulders already burned in the heat. I sat my tea down beside me after deciding that it was far too hot to enjoy my beverage the way that I had intended.

I had left the house earlier than usual this morning, I fixed as well as served my Grandma's breakfast and tucked her lunch away neatly in the fridge. I swung my purse over my shoulders, equipped with my essentials: my copy of whichever book I had fallen in love with while waiting behind the register, a bag of sliced apples, and a $20 bill or two, and a market bag full of the harvests of my Grandmother's garden.

I felt the breeze in my hair as I rode down historic Main Street, cobblestone sidewalks causing my ride to be bumpier than I was used to. The streets were lined with tall buildings, red brick and green-painted awnings. I couldn't help but wonder about who had graced this street before me, or sat behind the counter at the bookstore. History and what came before had always fascinated me. I couldn't help but be amazed that I was looking at the exact same architecture that had been seen by people who had lived hundreds of years ago.

The buildings had blankets of ivy crawling up their brick, and moss growing from between the cobblestones. I could hear the market before I saw it.

I peeled at the bag full of bell peppers and asparagus, heirloom tomatoes and lavender that I had strung together with a piece of twine. The man who I met each morning stood on the opposite side of the stall, stocked full of honey and fresh-baked bread. The man hands me two loaves, as well as a jar or two of his honey.

"Your tomatoes are big this year," the man looks up at me with a warm, toothless grin. Most older men around here are farmers, once their morning work is done I often see them sitting outside the local diner with their folks, or driving around in their rusted trucks. They sit on the benches that line the street, enjoying the shade that the trees that seem to outnumber us cool down the otherwise miserable July morning. Most farmers are here, however, trading amongst each other as well as selling what their land had provided this week. My Grandma used to be out here with them.

"There's more where that came from," I respond, moving my hair behind my ear. "I'll bring you more tomatoes next week. A rabbit or something got ahold of some of her crop."

"Tell her we said hello, and that we miss 'er," he waves me off, but not before sliding me a banana muffin for the shift I was about to begin.

I wave at the gentlemen who I see every week, who have accepted me as their newest addition to their small town way of life. I've met mostly everyone here and there, most of them only knowing of me because I was my Grandma's grand-baby. I didn't mind.

I park my bike against the front steps, locking it to the railing outside of the shop. It was nearly 7:58. The day was just beginning, and I held my groceries in my arm as I tried to dig the key out of my pants pockets.

But before I am able to, I watch as the door creaks open to exhibit Missy standing on the other side.

"Good lord," Missy laughs, her chuckle filling up the empty building she stands inside. "I didn't mean to scare you, Mary."

I couldn't help but grin at the way my stomach jumped when I watched the door open by itself, I hadn't anticipated company during my shift. Usually I'm alone. "It's alright," I smile warmly, holding the bread loaves under my arm, and the muffin in my hand. "I can be jumpy sometimes."