demanded that they all graduate. I wasnât gonna raise dummies like me , he thought.
The kids spent way too much time on the farm as far as Hank recalled. They loved their grandma but absolutely adored the old manâwhoâd demanded that they call him Grampa John; Grampa as a title of respect and John so theyâd always be on a first-name basis and able to talk as such. It was like their grandfather walked on water for them. Knowing that heâd drowned in that same pool of righteousness years before, Hank couldnât get over it. It donât make no sense . As the years unfolded, the old man maintained his stubbornness, so Hank stayed clear. The kids would come home with stories that painted anything but an accurate picture of the strict, unforgiving mule. He was gentle and kind with themâ like heâs livinâ long enough to make up for the pain he put me through . In a shameful way, Hank envied his kids for their loving stories of their grandpa.
Maybe with death gettinâ closer every day, the old man got scared, he wondered. Maybe the kids were Paâs repentance.
Without asking Hankâs permission, the kids grew fast. It seemed like Elle was putting up a new calendar every couple of months. Hank awoke one morning to find the boysâ cowlicks flattened with some hair jelly, while Taraâs pigtails were replaced with a perm. It felt like he slept once more and awoke to find them gone. And that was exactly how it went. The house was filled with chaos one minute and the kids were all graduating from high school the next. Then sure enough, one by one they flew the coop to find whatever their hearts were searching. After theyâd each made it over those looming mountains to discover the real world, silence blanketed the house. Thinking of all the laughter that had once spilled through the bunkhouse, Hank thought, Iâd give anything to hear it again.
Still, he couldnât have been more proud of each of them. No matter how their efforts turn out, Hank thought, theyâre each tryinâ their best . Georgey went to serve Uncle Samâ God bless his soul. Evanâs feet couldnât move fast enough out the doorâ off to college in the East to spite me and become a writer . Tara followed a shooting star that landed in New York. He cringed at the thought of his sweet, innocent girl in the big city and prayed, God be with her . There was nothing more he could do.
Life got real quiet after that. Elle found hobbies to replace the time she spent with the kids and his mother took ill. Ma just showed up on his porch one night and asked, âExcuse me, sir, but could you tell me if youâve seen my pa?â
Hank was horrified and realized that when life was good, time got carried away on a hurricane windâbut when pain came knocking, the air went still. While Maâs memories grew faint and foreign, her mind was slowly being removed from the world around her. It was terrible to watch. Hank couldnât imagine a worst crime than for some disease to steal away the memories that an entire life spent collecting.
The coldest wind whipped down the mountain and back-handed Hank across the face. Opening his eyes, he reached for his pocket and lit another cigarette. âA few more Marlboro miles and Iâll be able to order that iron lung,â he coughed.
The air must have dropped ten degrees since his mind took a jog down memory lane. Itâs gonna be another winter of endurance for sure , he thought, and then glanced toward the farmhouse. Paâs lightâs out. Gazing up, he stared into a majestic sky. The moon was ripe and there were a million stars; it looked as if someone had freed every firefly Hank had ever trapped in a Mason jar and placed them on a black velvet canvas. Hunched in his jacket, he collected the empty beer cans around him and struggled to stand. His back ached. He stretched out and realized the throb in his head felt worse.