Rock of Ages

I was born in 1950.

Dad was born in 1921.

Grandpa was born in 1901.

The rock had always been there on the farm.

Mom and Aunt Mae would come running when she saw us climbing on it, convinced we would fall off and  break something.

Grandpa died and the farm was to be sold.  My cousin wanted that family landmark in the worst way.   So he loaded it on a flatbed trailer and took it home.

As he unloaded the rock, it tipped over.  The leather wrapped coin that was dislodged was enough to finance his retirement and more.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers again this week.  Thanks to CEAyr for providing the photo prompt.

You can read more stories about this photo at this link.

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