Roy stood outside the fruit and vegetable market that his grandfather passed down to his father. Now, Roy was next in line to take over.
"That's my father's fruit basket." He said to his mother. "I'm going to fly."
He begged her not to tell. He would tell his father when the time was right. Roy let many 'time-was-right' moments pass.
How could he tell his father after that long, tender speech of how his grandfather built the business? His father's muscles flexing, eyes tearing. Such moments were rare. Roy knew this was something that ran deep. His decision would change the course of the river.
To fill his dreams, or, try to fill his father's shoes?
Just getting his father to let him work part-time at the air delivery port was hard enough. It happened one day, Mr. Crenshaw asked Roy to pick up some coffee from the Cafe Jazz. As Roy entered the cafe, he could hear the sound of music coming from the stage. He watched three figures dancing in sync. Well, almost. Two of the dancers were obvious professionals. The other appeared to struggle to stay in step. Who was she? He wondered, almost forgetting why he came. He lingered awhile. She continued to miss cues. He stood there, silently hoping for her to get the steps.
On the way back to the air delivery port, Roy continued to ponder the odd figure on the stage. The scene played over and over in his mind. A thought came to him. "She has the courage to prance around on stage like that. Surely, I can get the courage to tell my father...I'm going to fly." He would have to return to the cafe to cheer her on and say, "Thank you."
-Blendigo
