The words from this week’s Sunday Whirl wordle I thought were quite challenging. The word rambunctious was not easy!
I’ve ended up writing what I might loosely call a haibun – a short story with a haiku at the end.
My Father’s Father
I had always admired the hat-rack. All those splendid hats hanging neatly on their hooks. I would often dream about the grand people they might all belong to. Those trips to this great house in my father’s rather dilapidated automobile had been the highlight of my Summer holidays. I remembered the huge bell by the great front door and the very old butler who used to let us in. While my father was always taken into the ballroom I was given the freedom of the enormous gardens. Like a rambunctious child let off his leash I would charge around the great open spaces, chasing swallows across the vast lawn, racing over the wooden bridges that spanned the three large ponds or trying to stalk the fallow deer which roamed the nearby woodland. The day always ended with a visit to the kitchens and a large slice of crumbly cake.
Now, here I am, 30 years later, still visiting the same grand house. I ring the bell and the lady of the house lets me in, the old butlers duties now obsolete. I notice that nowadays the old hat-rack remains empty, a sign, maybe, of the modern times we live in. My young son is taken off to play in the gardens while I make my way to the ballroom. Twice a year, every year, just like my father, I come to this old house to tune the family’s grand piano.
my father’s father
trod the very paths I tread –
what will you do son?