By Vince Puzick

September 21, 2020


I watch her snap the skateboard’s tail to the street just like her boyfriend does, mount it, one foot at a time, steady herself and roll to the corner. Her right foot steps off, kicks twice, three times, she accelerates, wheels click on the sidewalk’s seams. Her hoodie spreads behind her, a blackbird’s wings, soars with her own draft. Or fills like a parachute. I wave at her back. She kicks again, accelerates, her boyfriend waits at school, now she’s a silhouette flickering through the neighborhood trees, kicks, rolls, gone. I turn, one hand on the porch rail, hear her distancing in the cool autumn morning, and reach for the screen door, a single father at the threshold of an unfamiliar house.


When he’s not fly fishing on Colorado streams, Vince Puzick is writing about nature, family, work, and teaching. His memoir, In the Middle of Things, is searching for an agent. He may be found on Twitter @anaturaldrift. 


Photo by Mikolaj Felinski courtesy of Unsplash

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