The Lone Pumpkin

“I think they’re growing pumpkins in the next yard,” Mom announced as she sat in her wheelchair and stared out of the dining room window into our backyard.

“Pumpkins?” I asked from the kitchen where I was pouring my second cup of coffee.

“Yes, pumpkins,” she replied. “I see one growing right there next to the orange tree.”

I walked into the room and looked out the window, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

“See,” she said, pointing towards the neighbor’s yard. “It’s right there next to that big jack rabbit.”

I squinted against the morning glare until I saw what she was talking about. “It’s a grapefruit, Mom,” I said, returning to the kitchen. “A great big grapefruit.”

“No it’s not,” she argued, leaning forward in her seat to get closer to the window pane. “It’s too big to be a grapefruit. It’s a pumpkin.”

“It’s not orange, it’s yellow,” I answered. “It’s a grapefruit.”

“Well maybe the orange color faded from the sun.”

“No, it’s yellow because it’s a big old grapefruit.”

“Well how do you know that?” she asked. “It certainly didn’t fall off of their orange tree.”

“No, it fell off of the grapefruit tree that’s behind the orange tree,” I said.

“Oh? I didn’t know they had a grapefruit tree,” she muttered, firing up the Red Menace and barreling into the living room.

“Well they do. Besides, if it was a pumpkin, it would be growing on a vine in a patch with other pumpkins.”

“Not if it was a lone pumpkin,” she exclaimed, parallel parking smartly next to her loveseat.

“Yeah, well if it was the Lone Pumpkin it would be wearing a mask and have an Indian Squash for a sidekick,” I countered.



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