Back in early spring, the sapling peach tree in the backyard flung its blossom-ruffled branches skyward. Now summer’s coming on, and the branches bend with the burden of fruit. Hard green balls as yet, but beginning to flush gold, as if drawing a last deep breath to exhale into ripeness.
My friend is pregnant with her first child. After our visit the other afternoon, she had to sit to pull on her shoes; had she tried it standing, the weight in her womb would’ve tipped her right over.