“Mommie, | want to talk,” he whined, wishing just one morning she would stay and talk instead of going downtown to meet somebody. She always sent him where Mrs. Knownski could watch him. Mrs. Knownski didn't have time to talk either. Nobody around here did. “Run along now, Randy, Mommie has to get dressed.” Randy got up from the table, turned and walked to the back door. “See ya,” he said, taking his blue baseball cap from the hook on the door and putting it on his head. She didn’t answer. He opened the back door, stepped onto the wooden step and into the morning sunshine. At the end of his back lawn, Mrs. Knownski stood in her back doorway, her hands on her hips, smiling. She reached up and pushed some hair back into her braid that wound around her head. She put her hands back on her hips. Still smiling she said, “Gout Moaning, Randict.” She talked funny. Sometimes Randy couldn't understand her. Randy stepped off the step and said, “Hi, Mrs. Knownski.” She turned and walked into her house and closed the blue door. Randy turned and walked toward the garden. He scuffed his feet on the grass. He looked up and saw the rose that looked like his mother’s black dress. He walked to the rosebush and touched the pink rose. It looked and felt smooth like the inside of Dan’s ear. Dan used to live down the street in Martin’s back yard. Dan used to run around the neighborhood and play with Randy. Dan didn’t live there anymore. His big dog house still sat in Martin’s back year, and the Martins still lived in the house, but Dan didn’t live there any- more. Randy looked over the fence around his yard and over the other fences into Martin’s back yard. Randy leaned over to smell the (16) It smelled like his mother’s rose. He jumped when a bubble bath. bumble bee buzzed around his head twice and landed on the rose. He turned toward Mrs. Knownski’s house and walked across the lawn scuffing his feet on the grass. He opened and walked into the kitchen. The sun shone through the window and made the bread pans shine. “Hi, Mrs. Knownski,” he said tak- ing his blue baseball cap from his head. She smiled and continued to pull the dough and fold it over making flour puffs rise in the air. “Hafe a cookie from the cookie container,” she said in her talk that sounded so fufiny. His mother called a cookie container a cookie jar. “Play near the house,” she said. She reached a floured hand up and pushed some hair into the braid that wound around her head. She put her hands on her hips. “Can | go to the corner?” Randy asked, munching on the cookie that tasted like his oatmeal. “Yah. Stay on the walk and do not go by the automobiles,” she said. She smiled at him. He finished crunching the hard oatmeal cookie and put his baseball cap on his head. He opened the blue door and walked outside into the morning sun. He ran across the lawn trying to jump on his shadow. He walked around the side of his house and jumped on the sidewalk. He walked down the sidewalk blocks and turned up the walk to Mrs. Peters’ house. He jumped up the two steps to the porch. He reached up and knocked on the door. Mrs. Peters opened the door, and the warm smell of turkey rushed out. “Hello, Randy,” Mrs, “What do you want this hair hung grey from the back of her head. She Peters said. time?” Her bun at the didn’t smile. “Hi, Mrs. Peters,” Randy said, “Can you come out and play?” He pushed the brim of his baseball cap up. “Randy,” she said, “I don’t have time to ‘play’ as you put if. Run along now.” She shut the door. He turned and jumped down the two steps from the porch. He scuffed his foot on the grass as he walked to the sidewalk. He looked up and saw Mrs. Martin’‘s house. He stepped off the grass and onto her sidewalk. He stepped onto the first block, turned backward to the house, and walked backward trying to put his feet down so that they wouldn’t land on his shadow. He walked backward until he ran into the cement steps and fell down on the cool cement. He stood up and rubbed his back pockets. He turned and hopped up the cement steps to the shaded porch. He stood on his toes and grabbed the knocker beneath the lion’s head. He put the knocker down twice with a quick motion and then stepped back to wait for Mrs. Martin. She didn’t answer. Mr. Martin opened the door, took the pipe out of his mouth, put his paper under his arm, and blew three smoke rings into the air. It smelled sharp. “Hello, Randy,” he said putting his pipe between his teeth at the side of his mouth. “Hi, Mr. Martin,” Randy said, tip- ping the brim of his baseball cap up. “Can you come out and play?” “I'm sorry, Randy, | don’t have time to play. You better hurry though, | heard Mrs. Knownski calling you about ten minutes ago.” He turned and took the paper from beneath his arm. He reached back and closed the door. Randy turned and walked slowly across the cement porch. As he came to the steps, his shadow on the sidewalk out He “Mrs. Knownski, can | have two friend,” Randy said. “Where is this friend you want to feed? Bring him into my kitchen for me to look at,” she said in her funny talk. Randy stepped into the bright sunlight and pointed to the wall. “There's my friend. That's my friend Gordon.” home HARRIS Beneath old him. cookies?” Randy asked. He took his hat from his head. “Two cookies?” Mrs. Knownski said. “One for me and one for my the shade of a cherry tree a bent stoops leaped jumped down the three steps trying to land in the middle of his shadow. He ran across Mrs. Martin’s lawn, past his own house and into his back yard, still trying to jump on his shadow. He ran across his lawn to Mrs. Knownski’s house. His shadow leaped on the blue door before him. He reached to open the door—his shadow did the same. He walked into the kitchen. The sun shone through the window and onto the wall. Mrs. Knownski put the dough into her bread pans and covered them with an empty flour sack. She smiled at Randy. , BENEATH THE SHADE A CHERRY TREE JANET before man to get a cherry blossom with gnarled hands. (17) OF