Narrator: Russell P. | Wisconsin, USA
We were picking apples with our kids when the orchard went quiet. You couldn’t hear the parking lot, other families, even the little tractor pulling the wagons. My daughter was two rows over in a red sweatshirt. I could see her through the trees.
I called her name. She looked towards me and put her finger to her lips.
That annoyed me more than it frightened me. I started down the row, telling her we weren’t playing. At the end I found my wife and both kids beside the tractor. My daughter was eating a doughnut. She’d taken the sweatshirt off and tied it around her waist.
I went back with my son. Normal orchard noises returned halfway down the first row. We found a red plastic bag caught in a branch where I’d seen her. I felt ridiculous.
As I pulled it free, he said, “Dad, why is somebody shushing us?”
I hadn’t told him that part.
We left without our apples. My wife was upset about the money. I didn’t tell her the rest until we got home, because I needed somebody in that car to be calm.
