A bright blue mailbox

paint chipped on the edges,

always the first sign of home.

A house on the hill

with white trim and white shutters

and siding that sometimes matches with the sky.

A rusty red tractor

parked beside the barn out back now

but always running in the summers before.

A bulky brown rocking chair

worn down in the seat,

probably from all the hours spent

“resting your eyes” in that spot.

A big oak table

the center of any visit to my favorite place,

the center of many meals and many more laughs

one seat left open at the head of the table.

A long gravel driveway,

an overflow of memories flooding my heart,

a million memories

a thousand emotions

a single tear.

A place where family gathers,

a place where family eats,

a place where love is barely spoken

but forever felt.

For a man who had a hard time showing love, I sure felt a lot of it.

Love always grandpa.