Priscilla; Viewing Kenneth Through a Window

Opening her window to see the morning sky, she came to view her neighbor from across the street, a young boy, age nine, in his front yard. His father was grabbing the newspaper that was thrown off course to the far left of their garage. The boy was sitting, Indian style on the obviously wet grass. She worried that his pajamas would be soaked, and began to feel bothered that the boy felt no discomfort by the damp grass.

As she watched, the rain started again, as it had been all night. She began to close the window to keep the rain from getting inside, but before she did, she paused and took one last look at the boy across the street. He was smiling, smelling a beautiful bright red rose.
After closing the window, she walked downstairs where her mother was pouring milk into a bowl of Cheerios.

“Kenneth had missed school all last week. I would like to see him mother.” Said Priscilla, more focused on swirling the cheerios in her cereal bowl into a whirlpool than what she was saying.
“Okay, sweetie, I will call Mr.Kipper and perhaps after school you may visit him.”
“What if he’s dead by then?”
“Excuse me darling.”
“He looked sick, he could be dying.”
“Well honey, I seriously don’t think that will happen. If he is sick, I’m sure it is nothing that serious.”

By the time Priscilla got home from school, Kenneth was dead.

At school the following Monday, the class was asked to write cards and make little pictures for Kenneth’s family. The ordinary pictures of crosses and birds and trees and crude stick-Kenneth’s were made by a majority of the class, while some students chose to write out cards saying how sorry they were and opted to write a few nice things about Kenneth:

Kenneth was my Friend.

Kenneth was very happy and polite.

Kenneth has my baseball glove.

Kenneth, I hope you feel better.

Kenneth my Nana is dead too. You can be friends together. She likes to play backgammon but she will play easy games too.

Priscilla, being Kenneth’s neighbor, had the responsibility of leaving the bouquet of pictures and letters on the front porch of the Kippers’ home. After carefully placing the bouquet out of harms way, right in front of the doggy door, Priscilla reached into her backpack and pulled out a separate card. She opened the door and placed the card in the crease of the doorway, half in and half out. She closed the door tight. She walked across the Kippers’ yard, looking in the direction of Mrs.Kippers’ prize winning rose bush. She began to cry.

When Mr. and Mrs.Kipper arrived at their home, they were humbled at the sight of the beautiful bouquet and began to weep with joy and sadness. Then they came across the letter that Priscilla wrote:

The Deceased:
Kenneth Kipper, Age 9
He is gone, but his short life was not wasted. The little things that bother us did not bother him. And most importantly, He never forgot to smell the roses.
-Priscilla P.