I would go back to any summer day in my late teens. Driving those long straight roads, telephone poles whipping past, windows rolled down, warm humid air blowing into the 1969 Bel Air car. My grandfather smoking a cigar, sitting on the bench seat beside me, a big smile on his face. How he was so thrilled having his grandson drive him around, he would say when asked "where to" - "just drive boy."
A morning spent working chores with the man, coming inside at noon to avoid the midday heat. Grandfather taking off his hat and wiping his brow with a handkerchief. My grandmother setting lunch on the table. Grandad would say grace, then look at me and say "we are living high on the hog boy, yes sir, we are." Then he would take a slice of white bread from those stacked high on the plate, butter the slice, and begin to eat our meal.
Evenings were spent fishing, catching crabs for bait, watering the garden, or just sitting on the porch swing, watching the summer storms roll in from off the bay. My grandmother rocking beside me, grandad in his chair, smoking the last cigar of the day. Some evenings I would catch frogs from the ditch, or chase fireflies down the sand road.
Sitting with my grandmother, reading from the bible while teaching me to memorize passages by lamplight. The great hugs only grand parents can give, just before bedtime. Laying in bed at night, sleepless from the heat and humidity, listen to the rush of nighttime breeze thru the pines. A train whistle and cars moving along the tracks in town could be heard. The rare car rolling by on the main road.
That is the day I would go back to, to see the two greatest people I have ever known.
A morning spent working chores with the man, coming inside at noon to avoid the midday heat. Grandfather taking off his hat and wiping his brow with a handkerchief. My grandmother setting lunch on the table. Grandad would say grace, then look at me and say "we are living high on the hog boy, yes sir, we are." Then he would take a slice of white bread from those stacked high on the plate, butter the slice, and begin to eat our meal.
Evenings were spent fishing, catching crabs for bait, watering the garden, or just sitting on the porch swing, watching the summer storms roll in from off the bay. My grandmother rocking beside me, grandad in his chair, smoking the last cigar of the day. Some evenings I would catch frogs from the ditch, or chase fireflies down the sand road.
Sitting with my grandmother, reading from the bible while teaching me to memorize passages by lamplight. The great hugs only grand parents can give, just before bedtime. Laying in bed at night, sleepless from the heat and humidity, listen to the rush of nighttime breeze thru the pines. A train whistle and cars moving along the tracks in town could be heard. The rare car rolling by on the main road.
That is the day I would go back to, to see the two greatest people I have ever known.
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