I’m lying in a hospital bed after having had knee surgery, writing this on my phone. That’s right: nothing stops me from doing Friday Fictioneers!
The Song of the Old Country
“At first it was a scuffle, and then a big kerfuffle. How we all did grieve when we had to leave.”
Grandpa’s songs always started like that. Then he would sing about the paradise of the old country before the war.
Grandpa’s light-hearted songs could not prepare me for the reality. Even as an adult and wearing a radiation suit, my eyes filled with tears as I looked out over the blighted wasteland.
I turned to go when a flash of green caught my eye. A clump of clover had burst from the poisonous ground. Grandpa’s old country was returning.