Bird Bench

A stale stack of sliced white bread sat between my grandfather and I on a bench still moist from the early morning dew. I picked up a slice, pinched off a piece and threw it toward the birds that congregated on the grass around us. I continued to feed them as we chatted about family drama, the latest news and sport games. When the last bit of the bread was gone, we said our goodbyes knowing we’d see each other the following Sunday. It was something we enjoyed doing every week for the last 10 years, ever since he died.


Any Thoughts?

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