A WHEELBARROW WILL DO by Janet Feldman

“Vinnie, get down from the roof. Go find your brother and come in for dinner,” his mother called out the window.  “I swear the two of you don’t know what the inside of this house looks like.”

Vinnie found Teddy down by the pond looking for frogs, as usual.  “Mother’s calling for dinner.” The two boys ran back together.

Their sisters were busy at the table, as their mother scurried about.  “Your father will be home any minute, and you know he’ll want his dinner ready.  Now hurry and wash up.”

The house was clean, but sparse. Pastors didn’t earn much. The children were well-behaved; the parents slightly aloof, but love was evident, but with a tinge of sadness.

“What do you boys do outside?” asked their father later that evening. “Your mother says she can never find you.”

“I like the frogs,” offered Teddy. “They jump around and make funny noises.” The boys’ mother thought a few frogs’ legs in garlic butter would have improved their meager meal of potatoes, eggs, and bread.

“And you, Vinnie, what do you do outside?”

The older boy thought carefully. “Lots of things,” he said. “I watch the farmers cutting hay in their fields; I look at the wheat blowing in the wind; I see the colors of the earth and the sky; I study the faces of the people I meet.”

“Aah,” said his father.  “You are respectful of the Lord’s work.  That’s very good.”

A neighbor’s knock on the door interrupted the conversation.  “One of your children has defaced my wheelbarrow!” she complained.

“What are you saying?” Their mother eyed her children for a guilty face.

“Someone has painted sunflowers all over it.  I think it was that daydreamer of yours.”

“I’ll speak to Vincent,” said Mrs. Van Gogh, and she closed the door.