Here is the prompt:
Here is my flash fiction piece:
I love sitting on this porch in the early morning. Feeling the cool air before the heat sets in; hearing the coo of the mourning dove whose nest is in the barn across the yard from me. The chirping of crickets is gone now, replaced by birds twittering in the nearby pecan trees. My old blue heeler, Rambler, yawns and – like me – gazes at the same sight he’s seen these past 17 years. He was a puppy when we both came here; me, already in my early 70s. I returned to my childhood home after fifty years away.
All that remains of those early days of my youth are that old, leaning barn and the two rocking chairs on the front porch. I love the chair I am sitting in with its wide seat, high back, and perfect pitch of the rockers. My old granny sat in this chair when I was a little girl. She was younger than I am now and more spry. I remember wondering if there was anybody older than Granny at that time, her hair white, her face lined, and her back bent. And here I sit looking remarkably like her, along with one bum leg that she never had.
She had a calmness about her – like life could offer no new surprises that could hurt – and I feel that exact same way. She and I now share the same look of peace on our faces, and I understand my Granny down to my bones.