People never questioned why Papa Ryan was always tending to a pile of dirt. Every Wednesday and Saturday you could see him out there, bent over like a crooked “L,” laying seed, and curiously very little water. Mama said it was better people thought he was a failed farmer.
Fond Farm was small in the county, but we had a big legacy of keeping our hometown pure. Outsiders, usually city folk, would drive through, trying to ruin what eight generations of my family had built here. Papa Ryan always said “I expected little out of life, but Life expected a lot out of me. And I would not disappoint!” He is the smartest man I know. I love him. And I can’t wait till I get older, so I can do the grown up work. Till then, I’ll help Papa hide these bones. I can’t wait for supper.
~~Story and Photo by Ian Russell
Byte-Size Fiction 