Your prompt: at the construction site.
Sorry, they've been doing construction work near my office building for the last month. This prompt was pretty much inevitable.
Random aside: it's an absolutely gorgeous day here in Vancouver.
It had been a true labour of love. The family had pulled together to get the work done and neighbours had even pitched in to help when the weather was agreeable and their own chores had been completed. Almost every nail that had been hammered into place had been accompanied by a laugh or at least a smile. The wood boards that comprised the walls fairly hummed with a feeling of community and upbeat vibrations.
It was to be the family home for generations to come. Space was set aside in the yard for the grandchildren to romp and laze in, there was room for additions to be made on all four sides of the building so that the expanding family tree could be contained within it, and a garden large enough to feed a small community was created.
The father, with a wink and a nod at his friends, even pointed out the oak tree beneath which he’d like to be buried.
But then his oldest son went off to university and found a respectable job in the city. A year after that his lone daughter married a nice boy in California and relocated there permanently. When his youngest boy earned his pilot’s license he put on a brave face but understood the ramifications for the home and land he’d put so much of himself into.
The weeds outnumbered the vegetable plants the following summer. The paint on the outside of the house began to flake and was never touched up. The lawn returned slowly but surely to its wild roots.
When the father finally passed on the children returned home for a final time to lay him to rest. But not beneath the oak tree of his choice – the new owners of the property wouldn’t allow it.