H
heatherrae
Guest
The more I have this overwhelming sense of nostalgia. I get so sad for all that is lost.
I see a hillside behind my grandparents house, and I remember how I would play cowboys and robbers on the rocky outposts.
I think about spending the night at their house and the sound of the coffee percolator gurgling in the early morning hours.
I think about tending the garden with my grandfather and sitting on his lap while he fed me bacon and eggs off of his own plate.
Now, the hillside is covered with thatch and brambles. Papaw has passed away, and the coffee percolator was replaced by a silent Mr. Coffee.
I see a hillside behind my grandparents house, and I remember how I would play cowboys and robbers on the rocky outposts.
I think about spending the night at their house and the sound of the coffee percolator gurgling in the early morning hours.
I think about tending the garden with my grandfather and sitting on his lap while he fed me bacon and eggs off of his own plate.
Now, the hillside is covered with thatch and brambles. Papaw has passed away, and the coffee percolator was replaced by a silent Mr. Coffee.

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