We clomped into the house at 1:50 am, collapsed on kitchen chairs, exhausted, bone-tired. Mom came down in her nightie and housecoat. “I heard the combine come in. All done?” she asked.
“Yep,” Dad said.
“How’d it go?”
“Wheat was getting tough but we finished the 80 acres.” He pulled off his boots, ran his hands through dust- and chaff-laden hair. “Good thing Glen helped with his combine and truck.”
I went to the sink and washed grime from my face. “I’m off to bed,” I said.
“Me, too,” said Dad.
Next day we watched the snow come down.
(The 99-word challenge – write about exhaustion. The story – a true one. At harvest time, farmers often have to race against the weather to get the crop in before the weather changes.)
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