Greetings! How is everyone this fine Sunday? Sunday is one of the best days for me to sit down and reflect. Today, I talk about "Mr. Bradley's Garden".
For those of you who have followed the span of my writing career, the title of the work is familiar. It is because the original version was published in an anthology hosted by Durham Editing and E-books.
The version in "Sentiments" is a remastered version of the work.
With Mr. Bradley's Garden, I take from my own fond memories. I fashioned Mr. Bradley after my late grandfather. When I look upon the steps of Mr. Bradley's preparation ritual, I smile to myself.
The bedroom door creaked open. No blares of an alarm or the talking of a morning announcer could be heard. Mr. Bradley never needed those things. He naturally rose at the same time every day. Eight steps later, he was in the bathroom. The wooden walls just above the bathtub still needed to be tiled. There just weren't enough hours in a day. Mr. Bradley would get to it, eventually.
Mr. Bradley turned on the faucet: eighty-five percent hot water and fifteen percent cold water. That was his preferred temperature mix. He unscrewed the blue Noxzema jar top with his right fingers while his left fingers grabbed the fuzzy green washcloth hanging on a nail. Familiarity with modern appliances was not his specialty. The long nails hammered in the walls would do as towel rods.
Soon Mr. Bradley’s dark brown face was covered in white cream. He inhaled it and smiled as the eucalyptus mist from the product tickled his nose hairs. He let the Noxzema set for a few minutes before soaking the washcloth and removing the product from his face. After doing so, he noticed the prickles of hair jutting from his chin.
See a glimpse of Mr. Bradley's life in this heartwarming tale. Personally, it is one of my favorite stories because it's like you're getting a sneak peek at my roots.
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