The World Goes By

Whit rocked slowly. He'd never cared much for rocking. That was Bea's thing. She liked to sit out here of an evening and watch the world go by. Those were her words exactly: "We can sit here and watch the world go by." The world never amounted to much more than a car or two. Usually Old Abe from the farm down the road. Or maybe a tractor rolling by, stirring up dust. Nope. Not much of a world at all. But that suited Whit just fine.

He tipped his chair again, trying to appease Bea. She never could sit still. Even while she rocked, she was snapping a bowl full of beans, or sewing another patch on Whit's well-worn pants. But come an evening, she said she liked to sit here with Whit and rest while they watched the world go by. Now her rocker was as still as the view from the porch. Whit rocked slowly, waiting for the world to pass.