A Conversation

We have a six dollar fan on our front porch. It doesn’t say much, just turns its head from left to right, scanning the summer evening. Have you ever seen a thing so stoic? Has bravery ever been defined so well? Not since the flag in our garden, who weathered hail and rain without complaint, was crushed by a suicidal tree branch. I asked the fan if he heard the flag cry out in pain, or whimper with a ripple in fear. He just shakes his head left, then right, then left again. I believe him. If he’d heard, surely he would have packed it all in and left.