Winter mornings and honeydew memories sheathed in fraying coats of lost moments.

I am reminded of my grandfather; his graying hair fast loosing ground, a dim amber halo around him as he treaded slowly into the demure sun. And I am reminded of our long walks together. His soft wet palms wrapped firmly around my fingers whilst he led me through the dense mists towards the school bus. The look of finality on his face as he waved goodbye, like I would never come back.  

Winter mornings and chatoyant epiphanies mingled with dilute happiness.

I am reminded of my grandfather; he smelt of soap and burnt tobacco, an indulgent smile playing on his lips even as he blew smoke into the air. And I am reminded of the gentle creaking sound of wood while he sat rocking in his chair. Those horn-rimmed glasses lay gently on his nose as he turned the pages of an ancient mythology with his sluggish fingers.

 
Winter mornings and mellow light filtering through clouds in sequined marginal smudges.

I am reminded of my grandfather; the smooth illogicality of all his assurances, where everything fit. And I am reminded of the things he used to say. That life is always about the little things. A steaming cup of sweet tea and some challenging crossword puzzles. The pink roses in our garden and tassels of some mundane conversations with me. Simple stuff like that, nothing profound or complex. 

Winters and the prescient rustling of leaves with the impatient winds.

I am reminded of my grandfather; his starched crisp white cotton pajamas, the musty scent of old spice cologne that lingered wherever he went. And I am reminded of how he always helped me with my homework. He made everything seem so easy. Mathematics was no longer an impossible knot to untangle and History was no longer a bleary desert possessed of ghosts and shadows.   


Winters and pristine whiteness sprinkled in butterfly abandon.

I am reminded of my grandfather. I miss him, a lot. I made huge mistakes with him. I pulled away. I took him for granted. I thought he wasn’t cool enough to be my friend anymore. I live with the guilt of not having said goodbye. I live with the guilt of not having cared enough. I regret that I couldn’t show gratitude to a man who showed me what being a man is all about.


 

Grandpa, I hope you can forgive me. I am old and still alive but already forgotten. I guess I now know what you went through. Life has a way of going around in circles, teaching you lessons, till death spreads its wings and you fly away with it.