Helen Brower

Seven for What Used to Be Ten

He stood at the entrance of the massive roll up doors, telling my mother that there were seven items on the list and only seven. We had already flustered his feathers by letting me tag along, then my mom, then we had to go to lunch; after all, driving thirty minutes to Costco was an outing, not a chore. The drive itself stretched along like a map. The land outside exposing flat fields of uneven corn or orchards. You only turned twice the entire way; besides that it was finding ways to entertain yourself for the half hour as the drive continued on loop.