The other day I observed my grandmother pushing her slippers to a side using her walking stick. This brought up a memory, a faint image, from a time long gone, of my grandfather doing the same.
That’s when I realized I hadn’t thought about him in a while. Which saddened me more.
Out of sight, out of mind, huh? Except, he’s not really gone. He’s all around us in his absence. He’s all around me in his absence.
With some of the things going on in my life, I really wish that he had been here. Maybe he would have been sure.
In fact, I’m sure he would have been sure.
I remember how he used to ask me to pass him something and then say “I have really long hands.”
It was always funny when he said it.