Melancholy creeps in on me all too quietly and quickly lately. Nostalgia claims me at the strangest times and places. Tears flow as easily as does laughter.
I think of my Grandmother sitting on her front porch so many years ago, late in the evening, looking out at Johnny mountain and gently rocking. She would stare out in the distance for a long time, never speaking but gently humming an old tune.
“What are you thinking about Grandma”? I asked
“Nothing much honey, ” she said. “Just some things I wanted to do today I didn’t get done.”
I understand now. But I have done what I have done, with only a few regrets. I have treasured my time in the sun thus far. And I’m not near ready for that rocking chair yet.