by“If I could have another life, I’d take it,” he said, sitting upright in the straight back chair. “This one ain’t worth ten cents to me. I’d like to do things for myself again. Would give everything I’ve got for that.”
He was sitting on his porch, staring at a field so green, it almost hurt his eyes. Rachel, Doc’s middle daughter, had cut the grass for him again, and this time, she hadn’t bagged it yet. The grass lay in soft piles and clumps all along the neatly-trimmed rows. Suddenly, he wanted to jump again, to leap and roll in the mounds of grass like he did when he was little. If he could, he would scoot the red, peeling chair back against the leaning house’s wall. If he could, he would leap clean over the front steps, scattering the piles like great clouds of green dust.
He sat th
