“Perseverance,” Al started, cradling his stitched-up hand against his chest.

“Pays off in the end,” Dean finished, knowing this talk by heart.  “Cutting your finger off with a rose clipper isn’t perseverance, Dad. It’s just stupid.”

“It made you come trim my prize-winning roses.”

“I ripped out the damned bush.”

For some reason, this story resisted me in the making. It grew from the words perseverance, cradle, and rose. I took liberties with cradle, changing it to cradling.

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