Drinking with Grandpa by Brooks C. Mendell

    “On our first date, your grandmother gave me a hickey the size of a plunger.”

    I waited.

“She grew up on a farm,” he added. I nodded, as if that explained everything, and returned the bottle.

Grandpa sipped, thumbed his ring, and storied on. At times, we paused from passing the bottle to quietly reapply sunscreen. I listened for the rhythm of his spirit.

“Grandma was tough. She’d have gnawed King Kong’s toe to protect our family,” said Grandpa. “God, I miss her.”

END

Brooks C. Mendell writes and works in forestry near Athens, Georgia. His stories have appeared in venues such as Maudlin House, Spank the Carp, and The RavensPerch. www.brooksmendell.com