Eight-year- old Tommie ran ahead of grandma as they  walked through the clearing that led into the wood just beyond their home.

‘Careful, Tommie,’ Grandma called after him, 'there’s a lot of debris after last night’s windstorm.’

Tommie was happy to be back out walking in the woods after the winter storm. He loved the crackle of broken twigs as he skipped along. Watching squirrels darting up trees at his approach delighted him.

‘Grandma, grandma,’ he called, ‘ what’s this?' pointing to a fallen ivy- covered tree on the  forest trail.

‘It’s a tree, Tommie,’ Grandma answered.

‘I know that’s  a tree, grandma, but what’s this?’

Grandma plodded along through the broken branches.

Grandma stared at the sight, a mound- like structure covered in moss, which had been camouflaged from the naked eye until the tree was felled in the storm.

‘Tommie, it’s a..it’s a wishing well,’ Grandma sputtered.

‘ A wishing well, grandma,’ Tommie repeated, ‘what’s that?’

Grandma regained her composure before replying, 'a place where you make wishes.’

Grandma stood staring at the well, its bottom half layered in stone but now covered in ivy.

An iron handle protruded atop the well. Grandma grabbed the handle and tried to turn it but it was entangled in brush and briars. But Grandma didn’t give up. She twisted the iron handle a little this way and a little that way until finally she saw it turn. Tommie took hold of the bottom part of the iron handle and helped Grandma.

At length the pair turned the handle and were able to look into the well beneath. Grandma pulled hard at the entangled greenery blocking the well.

‘Grandma, careful, don’t scrape your arms, grandma,’ Tommie shouted.

But Grandma took no notice.

Grandma was torn from her reverie as Tommie enquired,’ have you been here before, Gran?’

Gran stopped clearing the thickets.

‘Yes Tommie, it was here at this wishing well that Grandpa asked me to marry him many moons ago. But it was beautiful then, no shrubbery or briars or thorns.’

‘Why did he ask you to marry him at a wishing well, Grandma? Wasn’t that  a little weird? My school pals’ older brothers ask their girls to marry them at the Eiffel tower or at the Taj Mahal?’

‘Way back then, Tommie, we had hardly heard of the Eiffel Tower. A wishing well was such a special place, filled with good spirits and good luck. But first you had to spin a coin down the well and wait for it to rattle at the bottom. It was then you knew your wish would be granted. Gramps spun a penny and waited for the thud at the bottom. Finally, there was a loud thud and Gramps beamed a large smile, happy in the knowledge that I would be his bride.’

‘A penny, Grandma, where can I find a penny? Teacher says there are only cards now for payment. Papa never pays with pennies. Do you have a penny Grandma, so I can make a wish like Grandpa to find a nice girl to marry when I am older or join papa on the Space Station? 

Or maybe I can find a wishing well on- line and make my wish in cyber space. Ye, that would be a cool story for the guys at school, eh Grandma?’

‘Cyber space and on-line,’ Grandma muttered to herself, 'how sad our precious grand-kids experience life through a screen.’

‘What are you saying, Grandma?' Tommie asked. ‘Screens are great Grandma. How else could I talk with papa every day on the International Space Station if we didn’t have screens. How else could I tell him about being picked for the football team last week or my improved grade in Maths?’

Grandma dried the tears that moistened her ageing eyes and reflected on the generational chasm that lay between them.