She rubbed at eyes crusted with sleep as she flopped down the stairs and grimaced. Four pairs of walking boots were set out before the front door.
“Ten minutes for breakfast,” her father said. “I’ve mapped a six-mile route. We should be back before the rain sets in.”
The miles were hiked amongst gripes and groans, but four faces glowed with satisfaction by the time they returned.
Three decades on and she sets out four pairs of boots in the hallway.
Her son flops down the stairs and grimaces.
“You know the Sunday routine by now,” she says. “Grandad’s tradition.”
This story was written in response to the following photo prompt, provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for Friday Fictioneers.
You can find more responses to the photo, or add your own, here.