Grandpa’s garden delighted his imaginative grandson. Devon loved the shed, or the yard full of stuff.
Grandpa remembered how he’d been impatient with Devon’s dad. Charlie had followed him around just like Devon, questioning everything. Grandpa didn’t always know how to answer. Charlie would become inventive.
“Grandpa,” Devon asked one day, “What is all that stuff piled up against the fence?”
Grandpa kneeled, hugging Devon’s skinny shoulders. “I don’t know, Devon. It’s something your dad made before he got sick, before you were born, when he was just a kid. I keep it to remind me. Like you. You remind me.”
Authors note: Rarely do I struggle with the 100-word limit, but today it was hard. My first draft was 130 words. I liked my first draft 🙂 But–out with the extra words, one word or phrase at a time. I want to say that being a part of FF has indeed sharpened my awareness of verbiage and made me a better editor of my own work.
My maternal grandfather, known by everyone as “Shorty,” was an excellent gardener. He certainly had a green thumb, and I loved trailing around behind him as he worked. He was also a carpenter, and he used to make us puzzles with his jigsaw. So many memories came flooding in as I wrote this little snippet. When I first saw the prompt this morning, I really went blank. But when the memory of Grandpa Shorty’s garden came to mind, the story was there. Too long, but that’s what FF is all about, right?
Happy writing, everyone 🙂