“ My problem , young man , is you . Hasn ’ t your mother taught you to respect your elders ?”
The one holding the ball shrugged . “ Respect ’ s earned .”
His companion nodded . “ That ’ s what I ’ m told , too . And what should we respect about you ? What have you done ?”
Genevera gaped . “ Where are your mothers ?”
The boys laughed . They turned and dribbled to the basketball court without a backward glance .
Genevera muttered under her breath about ill-mannered children as she continued toward home . The late spring breeze brought the scent of approaching rain . It rattled a cellophane container . Genevera hadn ’ t realized she dropped the empty sunflower seed bag in the basketball confusion .
“ Hey , lady ,” a squeaky voice called . “ You littered .”
Genevera turned a semicircle to blink cataract-obscured eyes . “ I didn ’ t mean to litter .”
The child pointed at the piece of trash resting at her feet . “ Well , pick up your bag and throw it away then .”