Tilling the Land

Picking up the heavy hoe, Lilith walks in a straight line, muscles contracting with every step and thrust of the hoe, all her efforts spent on tilling the land before her father arrives. Over her head, down on the ground, pulling back, taking one step back; she repeats this again and again as the sun beats down on her.

Straight lines are good, they’re necessary; they keep the vegetables in order, and make them easier to pick.

Straight woman are good, they’re necessary; they keep tradition in order, and they’re easier to marry off.

Behind her is a root sticking straight out. She missteps and trips onto the ground, hoe ruining the straight line before her. Eyes wide she looks around to make sure no one is watching and she covers the slant line with dirt, scrambling to get up and continue her work.

Covering this up is easy, no one will be able to see this flaw, and the vegetables won’t change their course of growth.

Covering this up is easy, no one will know the truth, and she’ll marry a great man to stop the course of change.

The roosters crow incessantly in the background and Lilith groans with frustration, checking her shadow for the time.

She hates those cocks; but the cocks are needed, they help the hens reproduce, and they’re good enough for other farmer’s daughters so why not her?

As her neighbor approaches her, prize winning cockerel in hand, asking her to take his son out for tonight’s square dance, she replies with a smile.

“No thanks, I’m going with my cat,” and watches the neighbor’s daughter peak from behind the windmill, cowboy boots and red lipstick on.