Short Story Preview: The Chasm of Years
‘You don’t know anything do you Grandpa?’
‘Cheeky little sprat! I am eighty-three years old and you’re just thirteen. So what do you know that I don’t eh?’
‘When I said my friend had texted me his blog, you told me to stop talking rubbish, but what it is, is you are so old-fashioned that you haven’t caught up with modern words.’
‘Seems to me you haven’t caught up with respect for your elders…’
I was listening to this conversation through the kitchen door as I prepared lunch. My father and Tim often had these sparky little exchanges, but as daughter and mum, bridging the chasm of years between them, I knew that, under it all, they enjoyed a very close rapport.
‘For instance, Grandpa, do you know what a podcast is?’
‘Has it something to do with a wormcast.’
‘Oh, you’re so funny, Grandpa. Whatever’s a wormcast?’
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