“One barn cat’s enough,” Ma answered. “More, they’ll steal the chicks.”
Pa fetched an old grain sack.
At the pond, he paused a moment, still as stone, before turning away. Seeing I’d followed, he squatted, blocking my view, big hands wiping my cheeks.
Then he stood. “Best milk those cows.”
Jennifer L Freed writes mostly poetry, and sometimes micro-fiction. This story previously appeared in The Binnacle’s ultra-short edition, Fall, 2016. If you’d like to know more, please visit jfreed.weebly.com.
Eloquent economy!
A memory. Poignant.
I’m knew to 50 Words but have followed your stories. Like Aunt Peg, this one is a memoir filled with emotion from all the characters.
Thank you, Terry–for the comment, and for following my other stories.
Jennifer