LIKE A PRAYER

By John Thomas Tuft

Pap sat on the stoop of the old garage, propped up next to the small house. The garage was home for Pap’s tools and endless mason jars of screws, nails, nuts, and bolts. A roll of black electrical tape was always close at hand for any and all repairs. The narrow passage between the house and garage was lined with carefully raked white rock. Beyond a patch of grass, the vegetable garden boasted of generous care and promised rewards. Behind him in the garage the big burgundy Oldsmobile crouched, its front bumper nosed in, pinning the push mower to…