Gemotions

"Just a small patch," the words of young Lily, the neighbor’s daughter, rang in his ears. He'd looked down his nose at her suggestion, a childish idea of planting sunflowers. His excuse had been the dog, the need for space for her to run. The dog, now passed. He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a soundtrack to his unease. He watched Lily's sunflowers from the fence line, a vibrant yellow wave, bobbing gently in the breeze. He felt a sharp pang with each sway, a keen reminder of his short-sightedness.