Late July ~ in corn country

Photo by Julia M. D'June

"Agnes, how are you today?" Jane leans over the back of the pew offering a hopeful smile to the old lady.

"Hot! I tell you, hot!" Agnes dramatic flip of her fan sends the musky scent of Sweet Honesty towards Jane. A grimace overflows the corners of Agnes's mouth accentuating the uneven application of lipstick. Ruby red with hints of grapefruit colored outside the lines.

The church installed central air a few years back but the old building leaks between the layers of paint. The machine can't pump the bought air into the lungs of the faithful fast enough for Agnes or her tattered cherry blossom fan. Reaching for the hymnal, her hand brushes the brass plaque with her daddy's name.

"Sit still dear, the more you fidget the hotter you'll be."

"Yes, Daddy. I know." Her dad had been gone some time now, yet his voice is loud as ever in the late July swelter.

The corn stands proud in the fields surrounding the church. Their tasseled caps swaying like streamers at the parade. This is the time of year when the farmer waits out the humid oppression of the perspiring corn, watchful for the growing ears in the hopes for a plentiful harvest.

"Do you think it'll be a good harvest Daddy?"

"Lord will'in."

"If so, will you buy me a pony?"

"No promises Sugar."

"Well, when you do I'll name her Rose."

'Your Momma's favorite."

The sweet sting of a crimson rose harmonizes past Agnes's vision. Momma's gone too. Only the corn remains. Drops of sweat loosen the bridge of her glasses and roll down the flat broad leaves.

He's the Lily of the valley the bright and morning star –

Jane taps Agne’s knee. A nod. A hum. A blink.

“Amen.”

Jane takes her arm, "Are you staying for potluck? I brought my macaroni salad."

Two pats on Jane's welcome assistance. "Don't mind if I do."

...