It hadn’t been much of a home, had it?

I mean a tent with a tiny storage box was only supposed to serve a few days. But for them it was home for years.

His mothers lovely rhyme as she tucked him into his sleeping bag echoed through his mind;

Down in the meadow,

Just right in the hollow,

lived Conner 

the cornerstone of his mother’s life.

Someday we’ll give him a home

not of fabrics but bricks.

With love as a master and hope for a mistress.

Standing on the porch he smiled at the meadow.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Jan Wayne Fields the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.


39 thoughts on “Home.

  1. Great story, Chioma, reflecting on hard times from the relative comfort of the porch. I hear stories locally of Mums sleeping in cars with kids to escape domestic violence.
    I met a mum yesterday who was studying at TAFE to get her high school metric.She is a single Mum with two kids so it’s a hard slog but she’s getting great marks and working towards a brighter future for their family. Good to see people can turn adversity around even though it can be a very long and difficult slog.
    xx Rowena
    PS Loved the rhyme and could see a mum saying or singing that to their child.

    Liked by 1 person

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