SAYING GOODBYE

George sat in the worn rocking chair, looking across the fields at his ruined crops. Once filled with lush, green plants, it now looked like a desert. He had broken his back working these fields, but with no rain for the past three months, they now lay in ruin. He had tried to dig irrigation ditches to save them, but the drought had dashed that hope, when the small creek he was using for the water source dried up.

He rocked slowly and thought back on all the dreams hea had hung on these crops. He would finally have enough money to pay of the farm and equipment, with enough left over to make some much-needed improvements on the small house that he and his wife and children had called home.

He continued rocking and thought back on when he and his wife had first spotted the small rundown house. It had not been much to look at, the roof was sagging, the flooring needed to be replaced; the walls had holes in them big enough to walk through. There was something about it that had called to him. The house had come with 80 acres of good farmland and a barn that was in better shape than the house. His wife had not been impressed and wanted to look for something in better shape, but after a lot of convincing on his part she began to see the potential he saw.

They got a loan from the bank and quickly began working on making the house livable and after two weeks of working sixteen to twenty hour days, they were ready to move in. The house was not the fine home that he had envisioned for his wife, but he knew if he worked hard and with her by his side, anything was possible.

The farm had come with an old tractor that was ready for the junkyard, but with help from a kindly neighbor, he soon had it up and running. He began breaking the fields, which were more rock than dirt, but he never gave up and their first crop was a success. He used the money he received to buy a better tractor and equipment, so that he could extend the fields and make the job go faster.

He worked relentlessly and soon had every inch of usable field space broken and ready to be planted. The second crop did not flourish as he had hoped, but it did give them enough money to keep themselves afloat.

Soon after he began working on his third crop, his wife announced she was pregnant. He was elated and more determined than ever to make things work. He worked harded than he had ever worked in his life and it paid off. The third crop yielded enough that he was able to add a nursery to the small house, pay the doctor for taking care of his wife during her pregnancy and for the delivery of his twins, Jacob and Caleb.

Things were finally looking up, he continued to have a good yield from his crops every year and they were finally getting on their feet.

Then came the drought, one like he had never encountered during the seven years he had been working the small farm. He tried everything to make the crops survive, but the rains would not come and with the temperature well into the hundreds everyday, it was a lost cause.

The bank would not wait any longer for a payment and they began foreclosure, his wife said that she could not stand the stress of not having anywhere stable to live, so she packed up most of the house and his little boys and went back home to live with her parents. As he thought about how quickly everything had come unraveled, he could not make sense of it. His wife had only left two days ago and already it felt like she had be gone years.

He got up from the old rocking chair and walked around to the side of the house. He stopped by the ancient oak tree and looked at the old tire swing that he had hung for his boys just a few short months ago. He gave the swing a push and could swear he could hear their laughter ringing in his ears. He continued around the house down to the barn, which was now empty, even after selling all the equipment it had not been enough. He looked around the dusty surroundings, which were filled with optimism, just a short while ago, but now that was long gone.

He walked back up to the little house and went in. There was almost nothing left to show that anyone had lived there, that it used to be a home filled with hope and love. He looked down and saw a small car that he had carved for one of the boys a couple of years ago. He picked it up and looked at it. It was the only reminder in the whole house that children had once lived there.

The only furniture left was his old ratty armchair that he had bought at a flea market when they first moved in. He remembered clearly, when he and his wife had began their lives in the small house, how she used to sit on his lap and talk about the dreams they shared. He remembered bouncing his boys on his knees, until his legs ached and how they would each crawl onto his lap every night for a story before toddling off to bed. So many memories now that was all they were just memories.

George reached down under the cushion of the chair, pulled out the small pistol, and rested it on his knee. He looked around the house and closed his eyes picturing everything just as it had been.

He raised the pistol to his temple, "Goodbye." He said and then squeezed the trigger.