Labor of Love

Making plans with Grandpa is like entering a save the date entry onto my calendar. He will have the chain saw sharpened, fueled, and a thermos of black coffee ready. I’ll pick up jelly donuts.

Grandpa will repeat how wood heats three times. When you cut it, haul it, and burn it. The surprise came when he told of Grandma tipping over the grain truck during the 1952 harvest. She was not hurt, but humiliated terrible, and swore him to secrecy.

Grandpa was cremated last week, and with Grandma now. Felling trees is not work, it’s a labor of love.

100 words

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Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt. Click HERE to read more stories in an online flash fiction anthology by the Friday Fictioneers. This weeks PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

31 thoughts on “Labor of Love”

  1. My grandpa liked to think of himself as a “timber” man. Back in his day they used a crosscut saw and made stave bolts to sell. For those not in the know, stave bolts are used to make whiskey barrels.

    I loved the memoir feel of this piece and the happy ending. Good one, Dan.

    Liked by 1 person

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