scratching out potatoes

I used to think those August afternoons

were only about clawing into the dirt,

scratching out potatoes,

until the dirt feel asleep in our nail beds,

and the sun dipped below the horizon.

But perhaps it was about more than that.

Maybe it was about something cliche

like you would find in a fortune cookie;

something about digging up pride in oneself

and the value of hard work

or

how we were gathering memories with baskets of potatoes

for the times we couldn't anymore

because unfortunately time

is not something that grew alongside them.

***

Or I was right

and it was really as simple as harvesting potatoes.