I sat on the grass with the weed eater cradled in my lap. I pondered the size of the hand that must have determined the width of the spool and the two buttons you must press to release the cover. I know my hands are small. I know my hands have lost so much strength and their fingers are bent. But what size hand would fit such a device? I sat on the earth using my feet as additional hands to hold the weed eater while I tried to push and open with my two other hands. Finally the cover released. I sat on the earth trying to figure out the eye sight required to push the plastic string through the two tiny holes. I sat on the earth with two threads as long as a lop-eared rabbit’s ears trying to get the ends through the holes. When victory was finally won, I sat on the earth with a white t-shirt that looked to be a finger paint canvas with only the colors of green and brown, and a spattering of red from my scratched and crushed fingers. I sat on the earth looking at the weeds dancing carefree in the wind. I sat on the earth and laughed.

No image to share with this little scrich. No image needed. In truth, “no thing” happened. Though I can write the “what,” all my heart and spirit remember is that I sat on the earth. I sat on the earth and danced like the weeds.