A toddler with a bright ball scampered across the Earth and fell down on green grass. He pushed himself back up, stood and wobbled. Laughing, the tiny child raced off with heedless feet.
His mother walked nearby. She closely watched her child play. She was careful not to step on graves.
The toddler didn’t seem to know where he was. He threw his ball up, missed it as it came down. He leaned over, grabbed his ball, twisted wildly and let it fly sideways. The ball ricocheted off a headstone and rolled down a green slope.
The bright ball rolled down and down, settled among some flowers.
Two small hands reached for the ball.
Suddenly the little person noticed a very old woman dressed in black standing high above him. The old woman didn’t move. She stared down at nothing.
The weathered face and deep eyes appeared to be stone. A face carved from gray stone. Etched with something unreadable. The dead eyes seemed not to know where they were.
The old woman stood beside a fresh patch of dirt.
“Want to play catch?”
The woman in black turned her head and regarded the little person who waited by her legs clutching a bright ball.
Her face softened. “No, thank you.”
“Noah!”
The toddler heard his name. He turned and with two unstoppable legs raced wildly back up the hill. Skipping and swerving, he bounded toward his mother, who sat waiting for him on her own spot of grass. A startled crow flew up.
She gazed upon the little person as he came to her side.
Her cheeks shined with tears.
“That’s Daddy!” the small boy explained, finger pointing to the nearby stone.
His mother smiled.
“I love you Daddy!” the child exclaimed, dropping his ball. He ran forward and hugged the white marble.
Short Stories by Richard 