EMPTY NEST
That garden shed was a bone of
contention from day one.
He wanted a man-cave to store his
tools, while I envisaged a quiet retreat for writing. Grudgingly, we
shared the space, each snarling when disturbed by the other.
Until sparrows converted his crusty, gnarled
gardening glove into a nest. Stealthy as thieves, we watched noisy hatchlings
feed and fledge. Indulgent, we brought insect gifts and wiped their crap off
tools and books, naming each baby.
Then one morning they flew out to
claim the sky.
We cleaned up silently, united in our
grief, as bereft as university parents.
..........................................................................................
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ and to Douglas MacIlroy for the photo prompt.
I was away last week for three days, celebrating my daughter's birthday in Ireland, and did not visit as many other FF blogs as usual, for which I apologise. Must try to do better, as the teachers used to say - perhaps they still do?
