Joey

 

Joey

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 Marian Wilkinson bound for the post office.  A card in her mail told of a package there.  Her order from the catalog, long overdue.  A walk of only four blocks…down a quiet street …a clear warm July morning…she did not go alone.  Joey, four foot, slender build, needing thee steps for Marian’s two, easily matched Mrs. Wilkinson’s pace.  At times tugging at the hand whose firm grip kept the boy near.  Joey’s neatly combed hair blended seamlessly with a spotless polo shirt of red and blue bands, khaki shorts certainly pressed, and brilliant white sneakers trimmed by thin red stripes.  The boy bounced tirelessly as they moved along, jumping at times the uneven sidewalk’s seams, coming down firmly on both feet.  Marian smiled at the boy’s antics as they hurried along.  Joey, tilting his head at times, glanced upward into the face of the woman; her smile reflected by his grin. 

A short time later woman and boy headed in the opposite direction.  The package, a foot by foot and three foot long, larger than she had imagined and of surprising weight was perched upon Joey’s left shoulder.  Marian watching concerned, as Joey labored beneath the load.  The six year old with face determined strained to balance and carry Mrs. Wilkinson’s parcel without complaint, smiling when able…proving to his mother that he was a man.

 

(229 Words)