sail away

Water splashes in sync with the creaking of boats. On the shore, children run, and adults do chores in and near the huts.

“This river originates in the mountain where your ancestors are from.”

“My ancestors, Grandpa?”

“Yes. Those you never met, some even I never met.”

“You? You know everybody.”

“I might be older than you but, no, I do not know everybody.”

“Do you miss them? I mean, those you’ve left…”

“Yes. I miss them. And I miss those who’ve left us. We keep sailing away, don’t we?”

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

For Friday Fictioneers – 28 April 2023.