MaryAnne peeked out the front door window for the third time. There was a young black man sitting on the steps. He had been there for at least fifteen minutes. She was up and awake and had already planned out her Sunday morning . . . well, actually, it didn’t involve much more than looking at the paper and sipping her morning coffee, but still . . . she wanted to know what the young black man was doing on her steps.
Finally, she counted down from ten . . . and then counted down again . . . on the third go, she slowly opened the door and said, “Good morning.” The young man turned his head ever so slowly, smiled, and responded and replied, with a warm grin, “Good morning to you. I hope you don’t mind me sitting here. I was admiring your madrona tree and your flowers . . . and was just curious if perhaps I would help you.”
MaryAnne blinked and had no reply.
“I’m familiar with Madronas. Sometimes it seems like fallen and dried Madrona leaves multiply overnight . . . no matter how much raking and mulching you do, it seems like they reproduce, catch in the wind, and litter even the best of yards.” MaryAnne nodded her head, but remained silent.
“I’ve just created the fantastic “Anti-Madrona Dried Leaf Magic Tool.” I would like to try it out in your yard at no charge . . . just for you.”
MaryAnne looked down over her glasses at the young man with a slight smile and said “Just created?” The young man nodded his head and said “Created in my mind, but just minutes away from completion. Before sitting down on your step, I saw an old broom sticking out of your green garbage container and also noticed an old potato bag of woven hemp. If you have a hammer and a long nail, that’s all I need for the . . . what’s your name by the way?
“MaryAnne” said MaryAnne almost laughing. The young man said “Give me ten minutes and perhaps some coffee and the Anti-Madrona Dried Leaf Magic Tool will be complete.” The young man hammered the long nail into the rounded off top of the broom and then turning the broom around he used the concrete sidewalk to sharpen the flat side of the long nail. In seconds he had a weapon. He used the sharp end of the broom to spear two dozen Madrona leaves and put them into the old potato bag just in time to accept the cup of coffee and sit back on the steps.
“How old are you? asked MaryAnne. The reply was “Somewhere between ten and fifty.” “Jail time? . . . Drugs and booze?” was her next query. “Not since I got smart . . well, smarter perhaps.” “How smart?” “Still wondering . . . myself. Covid and school failure have left me pretty much empty headed.”
MaryAnne shook her head no and said “I don’t think so. My husband died two years ago. I had great plans, but he thought not. I have a small basement apartment . . . vacant. I think you might have the brains to fill the apartment. By the way, what’s your name?”
The young man took a full breath, let out a sigh of relief, smiled, and said, “Just call me Lucky.”
Lovely story.