Home.

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.

 

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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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