O'Reilly's Summer day

O'Reilly sat beneath the old weeping willow  in the grass, sticking his gnarled feet into the fresh, cool water of the  merrily gurgling brook. Beside him bobbed a bottle of ale, carefully tied to a string.

It was a lovely day early in the Irish summer, of the variety the tourists only experienced in books and travel brochures.

Behind him he heard the screeching and laughing of the twins Marcus and Shaun, who raced across the meadow. Hooting and yelling they tore past their grandfather and splashed into the water like millstones. Mavourneen, the little cat sat on O'Reilly's other side and growled, admonishing them. She'd been hoping for a fish the whole time. Didn't matter, O'Reilly used that fishing-rod only as an alibi anyway.

"Well," he told his pocket-tiger, "boys will be boys."

Humming, he reeled in the line, cast again and yawned.

He remembered when he and his brothers had played here.

They likewise had screamed, hooted and hollered , dropped like millstones into the water and chased off grandfather's fish. They had gotten sunburned, scraped their shins on tree bark climbing into the willow, tickled trout and organized wrestling matches.

In the willow branches above O'Reilly someone bleated, "Grandpa, look!" Then a red-haired something fell with a huge splash in the creek.

As he wiped the water from his eyes, O'Reilly couldn't help but grin.

Sometimes it was good when history repeated itself..