“Pull, pull!” shout my grown sons, two at either end of a thick rope straining for victory.

They keep glancing at my husband who watches from his lawn chair in the shade.

Desperate to earn their father’s congratulatory grunt, they struggle despite bloody hands.

I’ll bandage them after the game.

Trish Fegan is a former corporate communications professional who is now focused on writing fiction, aided by her muse, a feisty rescue chihuahua.