
The Night I Smiled at a Fox
I saw a fox in the garden last night. It was the colour of rusty iron. Or Kenyan soil. Sturdy little thing with a long thick tail, just like the tail on Daniel Boone’s hat — Fess Parker’s Daniel Boone. On telly. When I was twelve or so, I wanted to be Daniel Boone’s wife. I could smile like his Rebecca, be just as tough and wear long dresses in the forest and not fall over my skirts and hems or fallen logs or beavers. Back then I struggled with the wedge between fantasy, TV, Walt Disney and Wonder bread. I did know however that bologna was no good for me — it smelled, like Dad’s socks, which wasn’t good; Dad was a postman. But that fox, well, I can’t recall smiling quite so wide as when I saw it last night. For a brief moment, there was no wedge between me and nature — just the two of us, staring back at each other through a windowpane.
written for Miz Quickly’s Day 4. Join in a month of fun and interesting prompts. Image is from Unsplash. No copyright restrictions.
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