SOMETIMES
Shadows circled around the backyard as chickens scampered for safety under gooseberry bushes. Tommy looked up at the screen door and yelled, “Mom! Chicken Hawk -- and here comes Sue Ellen and she's barefoot. Can I go barefoot?”
Tommy's mother walked out onto the porch, shaded her eyes and searched the sky, then looked down the gravel road. “It's kind of early for bare feet.”
“Sue's barefoot and she's a girl. Can I?”
“Oh, I guess so.”
Tommy untied his shoes and pulled them off. He stood, folded the bottom of his pants legs up and wiggled his toes. “We're goin' down to the pond to look for frogs.”
Sue Ellen and Tommy walked between the tool shed and the pump house, helped each other through a barbed-wire fence, then onto a worn cow path that cut through the south pasture, toward the pond. She walked ahead, stopped and turned. “You were thinking about me on the backsteps just now.”
“I was watchin' a Chicken Hawk.”
Sue Ellen walked on. “You were thinking about me -- I saw you.”
“Was not. Well, sometimes I do.”
“When?”
“Mostly when we're catchin' frogs.”
Sue Ellen ducked under a willow branch and held it back. “You were thinking about me and that means you're in love.”
“Ah, I‘m not in love.”
“You are.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You are.”
They scrambled down the bank and sat down on the cow-mowed grass. Willow trees, tall marsh grass and brambles bordered the pond. Clumps of clear jelly with black dots clung to the stalks of marsh grass in the limpid water. Soon the dots would wiggle out and hundreds of tadpoles would sprout arms and legs and become baby frogs.
Sue Ellen dangled a switch in the water. “My sister told me you're in love when you can't stop thinking about a person.”
Tommy rolled his eyes.
Sue looked at him. “Do you think about me in the morning?”
“When we walk to the bus, sometimes.”
“After school?”
“Sometimes.”
Sue Ellen stood up, threw the branch in the water and watched the ripples spread in ever-larger circles. Tommy frowned. “What did you do that for? Now they know we're here.”
“Because you love me and won't say it.”
“You scared the frogs.”
“I don't care about your dumb ol' frogs -- I'm going back.”
Sue Ellen started back up the bank. Tommy stood, brushed off the seat of his pants and followed. She led the way past the pump house but didn't stop by the backsteps. At the road she turned toward town and peeked over her shoulder. Tommy waved as her head spun back ahead.
He trudged up the backsteps and plopped down.
“Back already?” his mother asked through the screen door.
“Sue Ellen scared the frogs off. Don't matter, we just throw ‘em back, anyway.”
Tommy's mother walked out onto the porch, shaded her eyes and searched the sky, then looked down the gravel road. “It's kind of early for bare feet.”
“Sue's barefoot and she's a girl. Can I?”
“Oh, I guess so.”
Tommy untied his shoes and pulled them off. He stood, folded the bottom of his pants legs up and wiggled his toes. “We're goin' down to the pond to look for frogs.”
Sue Ellen and Tommy walked between the tool shed and the pump house, helped each other through a barbed-wire fence, then onto a worn cow path that cut through the south pasture, toward the pond. She walked ahead, stopped and turned. “You were thinking about me on the backsteps just now.”
“I was watchin' a Chicken Hawk.”
Sue Ellen walked on. “You were thinking about me -- I saw you.”
“Was not. Well, sometimes I do.”
“When?”
“Mostly when we're catchin' frogs.”
Sue Ellen ducked under a willow branch and held it back. “You were thinking about me and that means you're in love.”
“Ah, I‘m not in love.”
“You are.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You are.”
They scrambled down the bank and sat down on the cow-mowed grass. Willow trees, tall marsh grass and brambles bordered the pond. Clumps of clear jelly with black dots clung to the stalks of marsh grass in the limpid water. Soon the dots would wiggle out and hundreds of tadpoles would sprout arms and legs and become baby frogs.
Sue Ellen dangled a switch in the water. “My sister told me you're in love when you can't stop thinking about a person.”
Tommy rolled his eyes.
Sue looked at him. “Do you think about me in the morning?”
“When we walk to the bus, sometimes.”
“After school?”
“Sometimes.”
Sue Ellen stood up, threw the branch in the water and watched the ripples spread in ever-larger circles. Tommy frowned. “What did you do that for? Now they know we're here.”
“Because you love me and won't say it.”
“You scared the frogs.”
“I don't care about your dumb ol' frogs -- I'm going back.”
Sue Ellen started back up the bank. Tommy stood, brushed off the seat of his pants and followed. She led the way past the pump house but didn't stop by the backsteps. At the road she turned toward town and peeked over her shoulder. Tommy waved as her head spun back ahead.
He trudged up the backsteps and plopped down.
“Back already?” his mother asked through the screen door.
“Sue Ellen scared the frogs off. Don't matter, we just throw ‘em back, anyway.”
Tommy turned his head and looked up. “Mom, am I in love with Sue Ellen?”
“It's kind of early for that, too.”
“Mom, can I go barefoot tomorrow?”
His mother looked at the road. “We'll see.”
“It's kind of early for that, too.”
“Mom, can I go barefoot tomorrow?”
His mother looked at the road. “We'll see.”
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Author's Note
In the spring a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of frogs.
This story is currently included in the collection, 50 Stories For Pakistan. Money raised from the collection will go to the Pakistan Flood Victims Relief Fund.
Other stories by Ramon Collins
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I like the form, Ramon. Enjoyed reading the piece.
Gorgeous story. I felt a bit of Thornton Wilder, Flannery O'Connor in this one. Loved the details. Your style of straight-on story telling pulled me right in and I was not conscious of there being a "narrator" but just these moments that capture a time gone by
fav
Great story. I like this very much, esp. the line about the tadpoles.
"Soon the dots would wiggle out and hundreds of tadpoles would sprout arms and legs and become baby frogs."
Yikes! Run, kid, run!
Nice Ramon. A sweet moment told without sentimentality. I like the tadpole line too.
Nicely told, Ramon. I, too, really like the line about the tadpoles, dots wiggling into tadpoles. I also really like the end when going barefoot is just as important as being in love. Ah, those were the days.
This is beautifully told. I love the heaviness at the end, when the mother feels the weight of being able to see down a road her child cannot see yet.
A simple and finely written moment that every one of us have experienced in one way or another at some time. Great job.
Thank you Sam, Susan, Jack, Tina, Bonnie, Lou and Sheldon. I appreciate your time, reads and comments. IOU.
I wanted to tell a simple story about a time when kids led lives without computers, texting and Rap lyrics. Sue Ellen and I were nine years old and inseparable friends. Her big sister read magazines like True Love and poisoned Sue's mind with gurl thoughts of "love". Her sister never caught a frog in her life and Sue Ellen was an expert frog catcher.
I thought her big sister was just jealous.
You most definitely captured that time of sweet innocence
Susan: Thank you -- it certainly was a time of Sweet Innocence. Kids and parents live under a shroud of paranoia today. The Internet, TV, movies, pervs, kooks and nuts are robbing children of their childhood. There's nothing like catching a frog and throwing it back.
Oh - just found this one - gorgeous, gorgeous story - clear voice, easy read, incredible imagery, re-read the worn cow path for the delicious taste of spring... fave fave fave, over and over.
Nice. Excellent dialogue. Especially liked "cow-mowed grass".
Thank you for the Fave Rave, Martha. You are probably a woman who hunted for frogs as a girl (and went barefoot, too). I urge FN Micro writers to read your Nobody Told Marni.
Christopher: It is a dialog-driven plot, all right. I tried to "round out" the characters with talk, rather than physical description.
Ah, to be barefoot and wanting to be loved. One or the other (or both) never stop, do they? This is so well told!
Thanks for the read and comment, Beate. Girls seem to think about love earlier in life (while boys still think about frogs). As I wrote the opening scene it dawned on me the first thing you do when going barefoot is wiggle your toes. Right?"
Each one a story in itself. Lovely flowing writing. Great scenes and dialogue that resonates with the honesty and simplicity of a child's POV.
Loved this so much. Def fav
Thank you, Myra. I can't write ethereal stories -- I'm just an ol' stick-whittlin' storyteller (PA-toooie!). Your words are kind and encouraging.
So glad I saw the link to this on Martha's blog. Great kids!
How did I miss this one? Thank goodness for Fictionaut fav's. What a lovely story!
Beautiful. I can’t say enough about this story. It’s a perfect piece of time.
Still smiling after reading this. Thank you Ramon.
This made my day better!
A story to keep coming back to.