A Rest for the Wheels

I set the wagon handle down gently against the curb, letting the midday pavement cool under my boots. My little red wagon rolled to a soft stop against a raised tree root. Inside, the smooth acorn rested undisturbed, keeping the folded fifty-dollar bill firmly pinned beneath it. I sat down on the flat curb stone and carefully inspected the wheels, brushing off a stray bit of dry bark stuck to the left rim. With fifty cash safe in the wagon bed and nowhere rushing us, taking a calm pause to watch the passing road felt like the right choice.