A Straw Harbor

I slid down from the low table rungs and landed softly onto the parlor rug. A wide woven straw hat had tumbled upside down near the armchair, its round brim turned up like a little woven basket. I nudged my nose along the rough braided straw, smelling dried grass and summer warmth. Slowly, I paddled my squishy body right over the curved edge. My plump belly sank into the hollow crown, fitting snug against the crisscross weave. Resting my chin against the turned-up brim, I watched the afternoon shadows creep across the wooden floorboards.