Grass

[Kay Sera]

Staring out the window, I couldn't help but notice the grass, blurring by as we drove south. Our old station wagon groaned under the burdens of speed and of highway driving and of parents and of our two children and of our entire world of stuff. All of it, smushed into the car, tearing itself away from memories and people and places, but our hearts stayed there.

I hated it; I couldn't stand the thought of leaving. But the offer was too good to turn down. 

The speckled white Midwestern winter melted into green as we drove. In this case, the grass really was greener.

[Kay Sera]

exactly.

[Sandra Davies]

And then, of course, you start to wonder whether or not green grass is always what it is cracked up to be.