The rule of Ten
The Rule of Ten
Love and habit had brought the old man to the row of strawberries that grew along the south side of the small cottage he had called home for more than thirty years. The mid-morning May sun had warmed him as he worked to rid the plants of weeds and now he was feeling the effects of having stooped too long and felt the thirst that only a large tumbler of ice tea would quench.
The house was still cool and quiet as he found his favorite glass and poured the tea he would carry to his usual resting spot outside. The old glider squeaked and sagged as it accepted his weight. Warm spring winds wafted across his weathered face carrying the aroma of blooming lilacs and honeysuckle. He felt the coolness of the glass in his hand and closed his eyes to shut off all the visual senses that would disturb the sounds and smells of spring. He let his mind shuffle through the pages of his memory until it came to a stop on a page that he enjoyed the most. Countless spring days had been spent in this glider when his wife was still here and still sharing the ritual of the rule of ten.
He remembered how she had cajoled him into planting the strawberries when they had first bought the small house that was to be their home. She had promised to tend them and always make sure they were well cared for but she never did. The old man just accepted the care of the strawberries as one more duty he was to perform. Even after his wife had passed away he kept the little patch, as though she were still alive and still sitting at his side. Each evening she would take a small container to pick only the ten best berries from the vines. They would sit together in that old glider and talk of the day's events. There was seldom anything special to fill their conversation, just the easy banter that passes between two people who have become very good and old friends. And so much more. When he asked her why she picked only ten strawberries she would answer that it just seemed right to her and the old man accepted her answer as though it could only be the right one. He had grown use to her quirkiness and, in fact, was ...had been fond of it.
The hushed voices of excited children invaded his reverie. "Look at all the strawberries!" Said the one voice. The old man lifted himself from the glider and hurried towards the sound of the voice. When he turned the corner he belowed, in his best gruff voice " the rule is ten!" The startledd boys were frozen with fear and momentarily afraid to speak. "Are these strawberries yours, mister? " Asked the older looking boy.
"They are, and you and your friend there cna take ten of the best ones but only ten." The boys seemed perplexed and ask the old man why just ten. "Because it's the only way they've ever been picked."
"Ten each ?" Asked the boy. The old man nodded his head yes and the boys fell to the ground eagerly picking and counting the strawberries as they plucked them from the vines. When they had there ten they ran off laughhing and thanking the old man. "Can we come back tomorrow ?" Again the old man nodded yes. "But remember the rule is ten !" He watched until the boys were out of sight. As he made his way back to the inside of the house the old man wondered if the children had thought the house was vacant. He convinced himself they probably didn't think anyone lived here. the irony was they were more right than they knew.
He listened to the quiet hum of the window fan and felt the still cool morning air that filled the bedroom. The studio picture of him and his wife on their silver anniversary made him wince as he thought of her absence." I' m still here sweetheart and I still miss you." He said aloud as he stretched back on to the bed and quickly drifted into sleep.
Did the boys return the next day and honor the rule of ten? Write your own ending dear reader. Because on the eve of the old mans' golden anniversary to the only woman he ever knew or loved with the quiet hum of the fan and the still cool morning air of early spring touching his face the old man went to sleep.... for the last time.
The End
comments?
Love and habit had brought the old man to the row of strawberries that grew along the south side of the small cottage he had called home for more than thirty years. The mid-morning May sun had warmed him as he worked to rid the plants of weeds and now he was feeling the effects of having stooped too long and felt the thirst that only a large tumbler of ice tea would quench.
The house was still cool and quiet as he found his favorite glass and poured the tea he would carry to his usual resting spot outside. The old glider squeaked and sagged as it accepted his weight. Warm spring winds wafted across his weathered face carrying the aroma of blooming lilacs and honeysuckle. He felt the coolness of the glass in his hand and closed his eyes to shut off all the visual senses that would disturb the sounds and smells of spring. He let his mind shuffle through the pages of his memory until it came to a stop on a page that he enjoyed the most. Countless spring days had been spent in this glider when his wife was still here and still sharing the ritual of the rule of ten.
He remembered how she had cajoled him into planting the strawberries when they had first bought the small house that was to be their home. She had promised to tend them and always make sure they were well cared for but she never did. The old man just accepted the care of the strawberries as one more duty he was to perform. Even after his wife had passed away he kept the little patch, as though she were still alive and still sitting at his side. Each evening she would take a small container to pick only the ten best berries from the vines. They would sit together in that old glider and talk of the day's events. There was seldom anything special to fill their conversation, just the easy banter that passes between two people who have become very good and old friends. And so much more. When he asked her why she picked only ten strawberries she would answer that it just seemed right to her and the old man accepted her answer as though it could only be the right one. He had grown use to her quirkiness and, in fact, was ...had been fond of it.
The hushed voices of excited children invaded his reverie. "Look at all the strawberries!" Said the one voice. The old man lifted himself from the glider and hurried towards the sound of the voice. When he turned the corner he belowed, in his best gruff voice " the rule is ten!" The startledd boys were frozen with fear and momentarily afraid to speak. "Are these strawberries yours, mister? " Asked the older looking boy.
"They are, and you and your friend there cna take ten of the best ones but only ten." The boys seemed perplexed and ask the old man why just ten. "Because it's the only way they've ever been picked."
"Ten each ?" Asked the boy. The old man nodded his head yes and the boys fell to the ground eagerly picking and counting the strawberries as they plucked them from the vines. When they had there ten they ran off laughhing and thanking the old man. "Can we come back tomorrow ?" Again the old man nodded yes. "But remember the rule is ten !" He watched until the boys were out of sight. As he made his way back to the inside of the house the old man wondered if the children had thought the house was vacant. He convinced himself they probably didn't think anyone lived here. the irony was they were more right than they knew.
He listened to the quiet hum of the window fan and felt the still cool morning air that filled the bedroom. The studio picture of him and his wife on their silver anniversary made him wince as he thought of her absence." I' m still here sweetheart and I still miss you." He said aloud as he stretched back on to the bed and quickly drifted into sleep.
Did the boys return the next day and honor the rule of ten? Write your own ending dear reader. Because on the eve of the old mans' golden anniversary to the only woman he ever knew or loved with the quiet hum of the fan and the still cool morning air of early spring touching his face the old man went to sleep.... for the last time.
The End
comments?