Stepping onto the Lawn

I slipped through the slightly parted screen door and stepped out onto the cool concrete of the front porch. The breeze felt entirely different out here, carried with the earthy scent of damp soil. I took my time walking down the single brick step to where the manicured lawn began. Squatting low on the mossy edge, I reached out and gently pressed the tips of my fingers against a cluster of green grass blades. They were firm, springy, and cool to the touch, tiny drops of moisture clinging to their edges. The ground felt deep and solid beneath me.