A man needs space, he said.
Time to reflect…
Time away from his woman.
Other men, he said, might go off with the guys, drinkin’, chasin’ skirt, killin’ stuff in the woods and yankin’ creatures out of rivers and streams. That wasn’t for him, no sirree. He was different, he said. The Almighty had fashioned from a different mould, he said.
Other men, I thought, wouldn’t spend their last dollar on a blimp. Not when their woman ain’t had a new dress since their wedding day, the kids need new shoes and the old pick-up truck don’t go no further than the end of the lane.
He needed solitude, silence, tranquillity he said; so every weekend he’s up there, chillin’ out in the big blue sky. Don’t go nowhere, just hangs around there.
And I’m down here… paintin’ the fence, rakin’ over the barren dirt we call our vegetable patch, seein’ to the kids.
What is it they say? If you love somethin’, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours… if it don’t …
So I cut the tether rope. A woman needs to know where she stands.
And now I do…
I don’t often have time at weekends to participate in Sunday Photo Fiction, but when I checked on the prompt I remembered I had a story from six years ago that, with a little editing, almost reached the 200 word limit. Thanks to Susan for taking over the admin for this weekly get together – much appreciated.