Gramp.

Sometimes I have words on his birthday. They flow from my memory bank, out through my fingertips, effortlessly. Sometimes a snippet of song lyric plays in my mind as it captures just an essence of who he was. And sometimes, like this time, I just flip through the photos, recalling his booming laugh, the contrast of his giant presence and quiet demeanor, his mannerisms. My mind skips along happy memories and I feel blessed, on the anniversary of his birth, that I was blessed with the gift of my Gramp.







And I smile.