Copyright Connie Gayer
There were a million reasons we couldn’t get along.
The least of these was his endless banging on about the size of his courgettes, the brilliance of his tomatoes, the tenderness of his beans.
Each Sunday he brought his bounty to the dinner-table, like a kid toting a glowing school report. And every Sunday I withheld what he sought.
“What? Yeah, cool… what’s for dessert, Mum?”
A small victory, none too sweet either.
Today, leaning on my hoe, I survey neat rows of asparagus, broccoli, kohlrabi, beans…
“How’d I do, Dad?”
But there’s no response… and never will be now.
Apologies for my recent absence from Friday Fictioneers. Part of the blame lies with Microsoft for yet another computer crash following a Windows 10 update; the rest is just plain lack of inspiration and/or the steady battle against weeds/predators in our own vegetable garden. Thanks to Rochelle for her encouragement. And to Russell, for giving us a glimpse of his other side.
castelsarrasin 
So very nice to see you here again, Sandra!
Blasted computers and weeds… (and lookit me, second in the link! You can thank my son for waking me up, my dog for bugging me for the door and the fact my story was ready…)
Loved this…
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Thanks Dale. Yes, almost 3 years to the day since the last melt-down. And that after a Windows update as well. Thanks for reading. You can go back to bed now. 🙂
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LOL! Am officially at work, hiding in the washroom… 😉
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That’s tender, and not as dark as your usual offerings, Sandra. You’ve mellowed in your enforced absence
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We’ll see about that… 😉
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Dear Sandra,
Tantalizing descriptions of veggies. I’m about to bite into a ripe tomato. Well cultivated and touching story. Glad to see you’ve weathered the Windows 10 storm and are back in the FF queue.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Good to be back, Rochelle. Wednesdays just aren’t the same… 🙂
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love the well cultivated – aren’t comments so fun when writers just whip out play on words… ahhhhh
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Very deep and tender, Sandra. Loved it.
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Thank you Varad.
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Nice twist; I love how you have really demonstrated the growth of the main character.
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Thanks, Emily.
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It’s nice to get some appreciation for such stellar work done.
The protagonist sure deserves his parent’s support & encouragement.
The last line comes as a twist…
True Treasure – Anita
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Thanks for visiting, Anita.
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Terribly sad.
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Thanks for reading, James.
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Simply delightful Sandra. Good to see you back – and top of the pile too!
Click to read my FriFic tale
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Early doors or nothing for me, I’m afraid, Keith. Thanks for visiting.
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Deeply moving piece, Sandra. One of your best. Well done
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Thank you, glad you liked it. 🙂
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Subtle and superb.
Beautifully constructed, then finished with a blow to the heart.
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Thank you CE. Gardening must bring out the melancholia in me. 🙂
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A very telling point made here, beautifully done. So sorry to hear about your computer problems, glad all is well and I hope the plants aren’t romping out of control now.
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I could put up with the plants romping out of control, it’s the damned deer, foxes, voles, badgers and slugs that are occupying my time. Thanks for visiting.
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Father and Son. Cat Stevens.
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Thanks for reading Stu.
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Awww, sweet but sad and all too true
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And all too common. Thanks for dropping by.
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Sometimes what we don’t say matters more than what we say. Beautiful story to tug the heartstrings.
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Thanks for visiting. 🙂
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The lead in your story has come a long way. Such is the father and son relationship.
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A long way indeed. thanks for visiting.
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This is so sad… I think there are so many moments when you wished you had been a better son… but often they do know deep within.
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It’s to be hoped so. Thanks for dropping by, Bjorn.
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This is so true! I remember my dad growing cabbages, making us help cut them in the rain. Hated it! Now, of course, I potter round my own garden, tending my flowers, digging new borders. So well written so well observed and so sad. Lovely Sandra.
And so glad to see you here!
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Hi, Sandra! Yes, it’s been a long time for me, too. Wonderful story you have there. Almost lyrical. Sad-sweet ending. I know there will be some things about growing a garden, should I ever do one, it’ll be because of what I learned from her, like the character learned from Dad.
My mom had a garden and the worst thing I did in it was to dig potatoes. Oh well …
Five out of five rockets (or arugulas, like we say in America). 🙂
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It’s so hard to have regrets and have no way to rectify things. You really caught that in your story.
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I liked the way led me along in this story. I wasn’t expecting such a poignant ending!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Dear Sandra
You’ve given us a lovely subtle story here. Firstly, it’s a nice oblique take on the prompt. Then there’s the fascinating way the father seeks his son’s approval for his gardening feats; a way of showing off that can make the son feel terribly inadequate. Notwithstanding this, we find the son – many years later – cultivating his own neat rows of vegetables for which he would like his father’s approval, and can never have it. You show a lot of insight in this story.
With best wishes
Penny
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My dad used to brag about his sweet potatoes. He’d hand you one about five pounds and say, “This is one of the little ones from the garden.” I wish I could hear him brag on them today.
I hope you didn’t notice the vegetable garden in the background. No, I’m not shipping you green beans, okra, or squash. Don’t grovel, it’s not lady-like.
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I’ll see your green beans and raise you my Edamames, Russell. 😉
.
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Beautiful tale. Thank you.
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I had to read it over to get who was talking, but then or course it made perfect sense. Yes, bittersweet memory & regret. Don’t we all wish we’d shown more appreciation back when?
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I have just posted my story, so now I can read yours and the other posts. I enjoyed reading this. Since a recent update I have been unable to use the [like button] computers! Could you use your garden pests as photographic opportunities. Mike
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Unbearably sad! I did think of a grave too when I saw the prompt but no story came. Your story is stellar!
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Its sad when we don’t give what doesn’t actually cost much and also when its too late to give.
Its extra sad when you reap what you sow!
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Beautiful.
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A little sad at the end, but they’re following in Dad’s footsteps.
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A touchingly sad story of what we sometimes long for but neverr seem to get.
Nicely told, Sandra. Welcome back to FF. Your presence and stories are always a big asset.
Isadora 😎
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I’ve been absent as well. Probably much longer than you. I’m trying to get myself organized to start writing again, but I’m not going to write this weekend. The photo looks too much like the brother I lost last year and your story touched exactly on my feelings.
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Such a sad tale and sad character – her hoeing reinforcing her missing of something that’s gone. Or maybe she doesn’t miss it at all? A story of complex emotions to work through.
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Really sad. There’s something of his life in all of us, I imagine. Nicely portrayed.
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this was a nice heart tug and the changes humans go through – I sorta see it with my son now– as he is maturing and even taking vitamins – that is a big deal and my fav part in your fiction was,
“Today, leaning on my hoe, I survey neat rows of asparagus, broccoli, kohlrabi, beans…
“How’d I do, Dad?”
because we do carry on the heritage and they are sometimes with us in spirit that we talk like this – to them and with them
🙂
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Dang computers!
Oh the upside they give us wonderful stories like this from across the globe.
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Beautifully sad.
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Reminds me of the song Cats in the Cradle.
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