A Different Time
Brody O’Neill gazed out at the sun setting on the horizon as he continued to rock in the old wooden chair that his own granddaddy had used whenever he sat on the very same porch every night after supper. He recalled the days when he’d been just a boy, and his grandfather would let him sit on his lap while he drove the old tractor, which now stood abandoned in the yard.
Those were the days he longed for, when living was simple. The work back then was difficult, but the rewards were great. He’d worked this very same land beside his grandfather and his father in those days, trying to make a living off farming as well as they could. They hadn’t made much money, but at least they had a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their stomachs.
There was always enough to get by back then, but these days things were different and times were tough. Now he barely had two nickels to rub together. He had sold almost everything he owned that was of any worth, even his wedding band, which he had cherished for all those years, and he still didn’t have enough to make the payments he owed. After his wife died, he had no kin left, except for his son, Adam, whom he hadn’t seen in ten years, when Brody had given him the money he’d needed to start his own business. His son’s desertion felt like a kick in the head.
But now as Brody slowly rocked, he thought about how it didn’t even matter to him anymore. He’d lived his life, and he’d lived it to the fullest. So let them come. He wouldn’t be here when they arrived. He picked up the revolver from his lap . . .