Morning all. I am down to only the knuckle nearest the wasp stings being sore instead of two whole fingers. And even that is minor. So I am feeling pretty good and confident this minor ache will be gone in the morning. Wasps man, their stings put bees to shame. At least for my system anyway. My mom who is deadly allergic to bees would beg to differ, but for me its the wasps. It is also time for the morning prompt. So timers set and off we go.
Oh I like Jake. Don’t know what his story is yet, but I do like Jake.
Tuesday, July 8th: He waddled a bit when he walked.
He waddled a bit when he walked. He knew he did. He knew it before he heard the whispers and the sniggers. It was, truth be told the only thing he hated about his weight.
Clothes were what one wore so they weren’t naked and as long as nothing was too tight or confining he didn’t care a thing for style or really color. As long as it was comfortable he was fine, so the fact that the most fashionable things weren’t offered in his size didn’t really concern him.
His uncle worried that he would not be attractive to the girls in his class. While he liked girls, those in his class weren’t ones he wished to have look at him in a romantic light. They were pretty for the most part, but since they generally ignored him he over heard enough of their conversations to know he didn’t want to be the target of their affections.
His enjoyment came from mental pursuits mostly so the fact that he wasn’t deemed fit enough to play sports was of no concern either.
It was the waddle that bothered him.
Until that summer.
It started off the same as every other summer. He was shipped out to his grandparent’s house in the country. He liked going to their house and tried to ignore the sting he felt at the relief the rest of his family seemed to feel in getting rid of him for a few months. His siblings never went out to the country house as they had activities in town to keep them occupied. Even without the excess weight he wasn’t like the others. They were athletic and driven only by thoughts of dominating the competition. Their grades were only passable because if they weren’t they wouldn’t be allowed to play their chosen sports. If left to their own devices they would never bother setting foot in a classroom. Often during the school year he had to be their unofficial tutor despite the fact that they were all older than he was.
He was strange, in his household and they didn’t mind taking a break from him when he wasn’t needed to help them pass their classes.
He liked the farm. The rooms were filled with book shelves, each one bursting with books. If there were knickknacks then they were small things, placed in front of a row of books or on a side table, often perched atop a stack of books. There never seemed to be enough space for books in the house. There were chores to be done outside and his grandfather took care of them for the most part while his grandmother took care of the inside ones. Then books were read and discussed when the work was done.
To him, it was heaven.
To the rest of the family it was hell.
He was sent off as usual. The day after his arrival, his grandfather broke his leg. While he had been given a few chore while he was ta his grandparents, mostly in relation to his own space; making his bed, doing his laundry and the rest of basic caring for himself outside of meals, which his grandmother cooked, he was mostly left to read and laze about.
With his grandfather injured and unable to do the chores he usually carried, there was a need. His grandfather needed to be off his feet for most of the summer, giving his bones time to heal. Jake took his place with the chores. It was hard work and at first, he found the tasks very difficult. Gradually repetition and practice made them easier. He spent the day in constant motion and happily collapsed with his books when the work was done.
Ten til Midnight 