Writing Prompt, San Francisco Writer’s Grotto
Pop-tarts, honey, raisins.
I drove into the neighborhood feeling lighthearted as I watched my puppy in the driver’s side mirror. She’d recently begun to feel safe in the car-car and was hanging her head out the window, ears blowing back as the summer breeze caught her. She sniffed the air, absorbing all the smells in our neighborhood. She knew we were almost home.
Turning down my street, my eyes lit up spying the sweet scene of the neighborhood children. They’d erected a lemonade stand. I pulled over, responding to the small horde of screaming children begging for cars to stop. I rolled down my passenger window as the children ran en masse to the car, shouting out my puppy’s name.
“Honey!” they cried as they pet her eager face. Her tail and hind-end went wild as they occupied her.
“Hey kids, what have you got there? What are you selling today?”
One child, a precious six-year-old named Macy wearing a tiara, jumped up on my running board and leaned in the passenger window. Her mouth was full of something.
“What are you eating?” I asked.
“Raisins,” she mumbled and showed me a tiny red box.
“Yum. What else do you guys have over there?”
Macy’s sister literally pushed her to the side, the kid bouncing out of my view as the eight-year-old in charge produced a Tupperware bin with pastries. “We’ve got Cherry Pop-tarts and Lemonade. We cut them into manageable slices.” She proudly showed me the selection of frosted treats.
Macy’s head, thankfully unhurt, popped back into my window view. “The lemonade is 10 cents and the Pop-tarts are 25 cents each.”
I purchased a Pop-tart for me and one for Honey and asked Macy to do the honors and give the treat to my puppy.
She smiled, several teeth missing, her small hand shooting towards the eager puppy’s mouth. Mission complete, we drove a few doors down and pulled into the garage. What a nice way to be welcomed home.