Picture it and write: Overgrown

by joetwo

The following is my offering to this weeks “Picture it & Write” by Ermilia’s blog here. Let me state that the picture is not mine it was only for inspiration. Anyway, enjoy.

Overgrown

We were driving along, perfectly alright, near the family home when my grandfather started making a fuss in the back seat. It was getting harder and harder to understand him but this was pretty clear, he wanted me to stop. I pulled in to the side of the road and looked back over my seat at him. He was gazing out the window, his eyes a mixture of fear and excitement.

He gets like that sometimes, it is easy enough to deal with. Just act calm and let him work it out of his system. I opened my car door and stepped out, letting him see outside often helped. But in this case he got worse. He was pulling at the handle, forgetting the child-lock. I figured it was not going to be as easy as waiting. I opened the door, undid his belt and let him step out.

He raced out of the car as fast as his arthritic legs could move him. There was a stand of young trees along the road, probably no more than a few decades old. He was moving around them, not looking at the trees, only muttering at them when they got in his way. I could only catch some of the words he was using, “Disgraceful” and “Overgrown” He was hitting his stick against the trees getting more and more agitated. Looking at the ground, as if he was looking for something. I went over to him figuring I would have to take him back to the car.

Suddenly grandfather fell to his knees. He was crying, clawing at the earth. As I reached him I could see a faint outline, some bricks, in the moss buried in the ground. They had a black coating on them almost like soot. He was mumbling over and over again “Sorry”. I was trying to think about a way to get him off the ground and back to the car.

But grandfather’s moods were as changeable as the weather. Suddenly, he stopped crying and pulled himself off the mossy ground. Leading the way back to the car,  he looked up into the trees, letting out a child-like cry when he saw birds flying amongst the branches.

As I belted up my grandfather and pulled the car out from the side of the road, I looked back at the spot between the trees were he had seemed so lost. Barely visible in the young growth around it and barely remembered in the fading mind of an old man.

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