Flash Fiction by Kaci Rigney

“A DELIGHTFUL TIME? REALLY?” thirteen-year-old Ginny said, oozing sarcasm. Ugh! “A month?”

“You’ll love it,” her mom said.

Ginny clamped her mouth shut. Say more and you’ll get lectured. Wah, wah, wah, wah wah, like the Peanuts cartoons. She rolled her eyes.

Mom’s car raced through country roads and up a mountain. Carsick. Great.

“We’re here,” her mom said.

Pretty cabin. “Does Gram have cable or Wi-Fi?”

“Well . . .”

“Mom!”

“Give it a chance.”

How am I supposed to check TikTok or keep up with my friends?

Ginny half-heartedly hugged Gram and caught the look that passed between the adults. The grownups chatted while her sour stomach rebelled. She finally excused herself for bed.

Apparently, her mom left before dawn, because Gram shook her awake, tossing overalls and a t-shirt on the bed.

“I think my boots’ll fit you. Come on, sleepyhead. Chores.”

You’re kidding me. “Chores?”

“Don’t dawdle.”

Ginny stomped into the barn and plugged her nose while Gram milked the cow.

“Can I try?”

“Grab that pail and basket. Feed the chickens. Gather the eggs. You’ll learn to milk tomorrow.”

Chickens pecked while Ginny hunted eggs. They strode inside with bucket and basket in hand, where Gram strained milk and skimmed cream. Gram scrambled eggs for breakfast and they drank cold milk from the day before. Yum. They made yogurt and butter, then drove the ATV to grab the mail, with the promise that after daily chores, Ginny could drive the ATV on her own. She couldn’t wait.

The month flew by, and Gram’s car meandered down the mountain and through the country.

“Next summer, Gram?”

Gram hugged her. “You’re welcome anytime. Love you.”