BB Grey–musings

Daily writing prompt

What were your parents doing at your age?

View all responses

At my sweet age, my dad had already been playing chess with Jesus for over a year. When he wasn’t locked in celestial strategy, he was probably tinkering with something that needed fixing—a gate, a harp, or whatever heavenly tool required a bit of fine-tuning.

Meanwhile, my mom? You’d find her on top of the roof of her son’s first house, laying down shingles to patch up a leak. And yes, that’s me in the background, yelling, “Mamá, bájate, te vas a caer!” (Mom, get down, you’re going to fall!).

My mom, always the helper. My dad, always the fixer. It’s no wonder I became a home builder and carpenter.

Miss my dad. Love them both.