#:Just Jay sitting on the porch with his “cousin”/thousand year old great-grandma nbd:

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@cosmoteer

'Ruby Guthrie' sits on the front porch of the Guthrie farmhouse, her bare feet dangling off the steps and into the grass. The younger Guthrie children--not so young now--are bickering over by the barn. She smiles to herself, eyes distant as the low strum of Jay's guitar fills her ears.

(Such a talented young man--very much like his grandfather, in fact. That little boy who used to run through the fields with skinned knees and wild hair, a harmonica in his pocket. Gleeful shouts of 'Ma! Ma!' as he raced toward her, a bug cupped between grubby hands.)

The strum, the strum, the strum of the guitar, through her, down her feet, strumming, strumming, strumming, deep into the earth--

Out of the blue, "What're you playing, Joshua?" Joshua, not Jay, although she calls him both. She smooths her palms down the legs of her jeans as she shifts to face him, drawing her feet up and toward herself. She's beaming, tucking a strand of 'Guthrie blonde' hair behind her ear. "Did you write that? Your ma told me you were like an angel with his harp."