CREATIVE CLAYTIME

     The dark, chocolate-colored, slick mud coated my fingers as I pressed the dirt into a flat circular shape.  It's a perfect plate, I thought to myself.  There were muffled traffic sounds faint in the distance.  It was not enough to disturb my creativity. This wide open field, behind our house, was a nice place to be. The fresh air made me want to stay out all day. Very gently I peeled the cold, sticky, and damp dish off my palm.

     My makeshift shovel, a spoon from the kitchen, came in handy as I dug once more into the orange-brown clay. The dry dirt clinked against the dulling silver of the spoon. The warm musky scent of the dirt lofted up into my nose.  Heat from the afternoon sun enhanced the aroma of the clay.  I added a splash of water in order to shape my clay dirt.

     One by one my little creations aligned the white concrete block to dry in the midday sun. I reached inside the coolness of the concrete blocks - my cabinet.  My arm scuffed against the craggy opening.  There I discovered my little bowls that I'd made the previous weekend. The dishes were all dried and stacked.  It was a steamy, warm day in the bright afternoon sunshine.

     In the field, I could hear the buzz of mowers and smell the fresh cut grass. A light breeze whistled through the mustard weeds and danced with Queen Anne in her lace. The breeze clumsily lit across my cement countertop teetering my stack of bowls.  The bowls rattled as they toppled. They rolled randomly in several directions like the scattering of dropped coins.  I was relieved to see that none had broken. I collected my miniatures and put them away neatly in their secret hiding place.

     From across the field, I heard Mom's faint voice call me home. 

     "Time to come in," she would call. "Get cleaned up for supper."

I was anxious to share my new collection with her, but it would have to wait. My plates had changed slightly from dark brown to a light brown around the edges. I knew they had dried a little.  I tenderly moved the small pieces. They clung somewhat to the dry surface. I would find them on my next venture out to the field.

     "Time to come in," sounded again from the backyard.

Reluctantly, I collected my tools. With a bit of a hike through the craggy, dry dirt and the frequent clusters of dandelions, I dodged and skipped my way home. When I arrived in the yard I was pleasantly surprised by the savory aroma of Mom's delicious chocolate chip cookies. Oozing with chocolate and softly tender.  Mom's were the best.  I should have come home sooner, I thought to myself with a big smile and a growling tummy.  I felt energized by the cookies in the air and Mom's sweet hug! Her arm squeezed around my shoulders.  I scratched the dry mud off my hands. 

     She knew I did not want to come back right then, busy with my creating. 

     "I smell cookies" I said with a smile.  She smiled, too, and we both laughed

     I began to tell her about my dishes and my day.

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 Titled Sentence Challenge  ~ "When someone cares it is easier to laugh." 

This was a previously written short story, I thought was fitting for the title and Mother's Day, hope you enjoyed my submission.  Have a beautiful Mother's Day weekend.