One of my favorite things about our Annual Family Reunion Camping Weekend is hanging out with my relatives around the campfire or picnic table. There’s never a lack of food or conversation.
Over supper one night an Aunt of mine said she enjoyed my blog… especially some of the memories I’ve shared on Memory Monday. She reminded me of a story that I hadn’t thought of in years.
It’s one I’ll share with you now.
My Grandparents lived a few miles outside of my hometown. Their house was at the center of a few mile stretch where a bunch of my relatives live. The county road you took to get there passed by a farm that always had livestock running around. Sometimes close to the road.
Cows, goats, pigs, chickens… you never knew what you’d see when you drove by. On one particular trip Mom missed seeing a chicken and hit it dead center with the car.
Being only two miles from my Grandparent’s house, she chose to drive on before assessing any damage.
When she got to their house the chicken was stuck in the grill… presumably dead. She went inside to get my Grandpa to take care of it.
By the time he got to the car, the chicken (that wasn’t really dead), had managed to free itself from the car and was strutting around the yard.
I don’t remember what ever happened to that chicken but I do remember my cousins and I trying to hunt it down. What a comical sight that must’ve been. Several young boys with BB guns wandering the farm plotting to catch a chicken.
Good times… and a fun memory!