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


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. Enjoyed your story. It starts out on a “looking forward to” note. In the end we’re sad to learn all the fun times with Grandpa came to an end last week. This is life, dear ones pass on.
    Having known a few farmer’s wives, I believe Grandma was terribly humiliated. Worse than not catching the stream of grain when the combine dumps. 😉
    The last few lines with their change of “time” — Grandpa gone now — should be in a separate paragraph, in my opinion.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes they did. Pretty much set in there way’s.. Very predictable. Thanks for reading Labor of Love, and your input Christine. Mother-in-law memorial was yesterday. It influenced story.


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