Tom paused and stretched his back. The popping sounds of joints going back into place rewarded him for his efforts.
“Dad, you sound like an old man.”
Tom smiled. “I feel like one, sometimes. But not too often.”
He watched his six-year-old son play with a stone as he sat on a pile of dirt. To be young again. “It’s natural. Like when you were able to reach the toothbrush on your own.”
His son nodded and turned his attention back to collecting rocks.
Shaking his head, Tom picked up his shovel. The outhouse wasn’t going to dig itself.