Sunday Photo Fiction
Photo Credit:Susan Spaulding
“Buddy is still watching over Grampa, isn’t he?”
Pa nodded, cupping the back of the boy’s head with his hand. “He sure is,” he said quietly, staring down at his Pa’s grave. Didn’t seem like no time since he was standing by Gramp’s grave with his Pa, his Pa’s hand cupping his head.
Funny how time worked like that. Used to be summers lasted forever. Now his boy was out of school and back in almost fore he turned around.
The boy knelt, petting Buddy as if he was real.
Buddy would of been there if the dog hadn’t died the hour after his Pa. Died of a broken heart, that dog. He hadn’t never seen nothing like it. Both of them buried right there, together until the end.
“Come on, boy,” he said, turning away, “time to go on home.”
The boy hesitated, petting Buddy once more, whispering something in the dog’s ear before following.
“Pa,” he asked as he took his Pa’s hand, “is Momma gonna watch over Gramps til you get there?”
For a moment, Pa was silent, eyes fixed on the grass, then he lifted his head, smiled at the boy. “She sure is, boy. Gonna have them a party when I get there.”