Days after the storm had passed, I visited my village with a trepidation in my heart. The neighbourhood looked like a war zone. My favourite big oak tree now leaned on our yard. The porch was ripped apart. The rocking chair on which he used to sit for his post-dinner round of smoke was lying helpless without legs. I got a lump in my throat seeing the roofless greenhouse. He used to grow exotic plants there.

But, the makeshift garden gear rack, which we’d built together, surprisingly remained intact.

“I wish I had not fought with father that night before leaving.”


Written for Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

All rights reserved.

25 thoughts on “Regrets

  1. You’ve written your story well. The description of specific things that have been damaged or destroyed makes the story feel personal and authentic. The parallel between the storm and the fight makes your conclusion powerful.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m glad you find my comments helpful, Piyali. Friday Fictioneers is a great forum where we all help each other. By reading posts carefully for the purpose of making constructive criticism we learn what works and what doesn’t. So when I comment on your posts, I’m reinforcing my own learning! As Neil MacDonald says ‘Reciprocity is the glue that holds us together’!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Oh yes, the Friday Fictioneers team is excellent. I love how each one of you try to read my stories and help me grow with your invaluable comments. I find the comments immensely helpful. Thank you so much for being so supportive.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. This makes me fearful that the father was a victim to the storm. Haunting and a bit too familiar, for my tastes, coming from Florida. And during hurricane season, no less, at least in this part of the world. Nicely written.

    Liked by 1 person

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