The card table stood on unsteady legs – spindly brown poles with rusty patches bruising its calves and thighs. By the curb, it stood guard faithfully, watching for any signs of a car approaching from the distance.
A long paper sign fluttered across its front waist. Taped like a sash, with bright neon markers crowning it “Miss Lemonade Stand 2011.” You, too, could be the lucky person who took pleasure from this wondrous table’s presence – for the meager price of 25 cents.
After all, nothing in the world comes free anymore.
The table’s faded vinyl surface laid bare. Its feet longed for the plush, cushiony carpet of grass spread lavishly across the lawn three feet away. If only it could inch a little ways from the gravel-y, concrete sidewalk, heated from the fiery sun glaring ominously overhead. Only that morning, the card table had watched cold water gushing from lawn sprinklers, moistening the green carpet and cooling its dry soil. How lovely it would be to sink its wobbly ankles into the damp mud – but alas, those darned plastic feet would not budge a mere three feet to the left.
A strong, hot breeze shook the table, wafting around the paper sash and pulling it into the air. But the duct tape held it firmly to the table’s waist, thus avoiding any mis-happenings of indecent exposure.
Another gust blew from the right, forcefully shoving the table a few inches across the concrete hotplate. And there was its answer, the card table thought to itself. The wind! The breeze would carry it toward the grassy patch!
And so the rickety table waited for hot air to blow it left…and it waited. Then, just before it gave up hope, a strong gust of air heaved itself against the spindly legs, lifting them into the air and pushing them…a foot and a half from cushiony soil.
The disappointed table leaned sideways, its sash sagging limply across the front. So close, and yet so far away from the comforts of soil, the poor table thought as it bore the brunt of heat from the scolding sun.
Sounds of small voices chattered excitedly as they bounced from a house behind the table, growing louder as they neared its wobbly figure.
“Wait, Katie! Don’t put the pitcher on the table,” a little voice squealed. “It’s tilted!”
“I’ll set it straight,” another one announced heroically as two hands wrapped around a bent leg and popped it straight.
“The pitcher’s getting heavy,” the voice called Katie whined.
“One sec,” the table doctor said patiently. “Let’s move it into the grass over here so our feet don’t get hot.”
All of a sudden, the card table found itself lifted again into the air and seconds later, its plastic shoes settled into the mushy, cool earth carpeted by lush, green grass.
“Lemonade! Lemonade! Who wants an icy glass of lemonade?” excited voices chanted while “Miss Lemonade Stand 2011” relaxed and smiled.
– Written by Miss A on July 11, 2011