Walking the Fence (Friday Fictioneers)
I’ve been absent from Friday Fictioneers for too long. It feels good to do it again.
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and you can find the page here. This week’s beautiful picture is courtesy of Erin Leary and you can find her blog, erinlearywrites, right here.
Walking the Fence (100 words)
My daddy built the fence. Grizzled and bent; with a straight shovel, weather obliging, he maintains it to this day. We planted the birch for my sister Emily, gone twenty-three years this August. I rode make-believe broncs straddling that fence. I fell off it more often than not, and I fixed more sagging and rotted boards than memory serves. I first kissed Sarah Mullens leaning against it and leaning on it – alone – it hid my tears after she answered my question with a no.
I been walking this fence since I was old enough to stand. I won’t leave now.
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Check out other Friday Fictioneers by clicking the little blue face below.
Michael B. Fishman
Michaelsfishbowl 
Ah, there’s no place like home in the country. Great story. Good to see you back. Just returned myself a few weeks ago.
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Dear Michael,
It’s nice to see you back here. The fence is quite the metaphor for stability and loyalty. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Michael, I enjoyed your story. In a short space you took a man through much of his life using the fence as a point of reference. The fence was practically a character in the story. Well done. 🙂 —Susan
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