Peach-picking was a tradition for my dad and me. We drove to the orchard all the time, especially during the summer months. We never tired of walking the rows of lush trees and filling our woven baskets with the juiciest peaches we could get our hands on.
One day it was very hot and the air was very still. My basket was almost full. As I reached for a peach a wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt flushed. “I’m going to get the jug from the car,” I told my dad. “I need a sip of water.”
I made my way through the orchard and back to the parking lot. The ground under me began to spin. I felt faint. I could barely keep my balance. Then, everything went black.
Lying on the ground, I had the sense that people were standing around me, but I couldn’t open my eyes or move. The trees rustled. A cool breeze ran across my face. It was almost cold. It was so refreshing it cleared my head. My eyes opened. My dad knelt beside me with some of the other pickers.
“Did you feel that breeze?” someone said as Dad helped me to my feet. “A cold breeze on a hot summer day. Where did that come from?”
It was a peach of a breeze, sent from heaven above.
