Friday, August 22, 2014

A Story about The Old House




Mom says the fort has to come down. The wood rotted. Uncle said he’ll do it on the weekend, but we don’t wait. I give Sean two hammer and tell him to follow me. My Great Grandfather planted this tree. It’s sturdy branches sweep low enough that I can reach. Sean watches as I pull myself up.

-Hammers!

My brother Sean is only a year younger in school but he looks like it’s two years. He pretty much does what I say. He stands on his tippy toes, even though he doesn’t have to. I take the hammers from him and put one in each belt loop. They stick out at uncomfortable angles.

-Now you.

Sean looks unconvinced, so I stick out my arm for him to grab.

-Come on.


He doesn’t realize how happy Mom will be when she sees we’ve smashed the fort with hammers. He stretches his arms in the air anyway. I clasp his wrist and twist pull him into the tree. He scrapes his elbow and whines. I did most of the work anyway. The wind picks up and the tree shivers.