I rolled the wagon across the yard — the Radio Flyer. Its wheels squeaked violently over the grass. I’d filled it with huge rocks, so rolling wasn’t going well.
It felt more like a wresting match, and at one point the handle spun and stuck. I turned to plant both feet and grab with both hands to hoist the wagon over a large tree root, and it flipped.
I jumped out of the way of one rock that tumbled toward my foot. It settled in the long grass, just missing my pinky toe. I half sighed, half hissed and looked around to see if anyone caught the disastrous mishap. Nope.
I turned back to stare at the wagon, now on its side.
You should’ve asked for help.
Who tries to drag 100 pounds of rocks across her yard by herself?
A half laugh escaped my lips as the life metaphors sprang up and tease-danced in my head.
What’s that one about rolling the boulder up the hill?
Wait, maybe it’s about carrying the boulder.
Shit, I have no idea.
Turning the wagon upright again, I paused, sighed another long one, and looked up through the newly green…
