The mornings now leave frost in the lawn out here at the edge of town. We are staying with my Grandpa, in the house he built. My Grandma has left this life. Her tiny tired body knows true rest now. These days have been filled to their brims with such busy activity. But in the quiet of this morning, there is this moment of stillness. I want to stay right here.
How memories lie to us. How time coats the ordinary with gold. How it breaks the heart to go back and attempt to re-live them. How crushed we are when we discover that the gold was merely gold-plating thinly coated over lead, chalk and peeling paint.