Reflections of the Past

Reflections of the Past

Weathered-grey walls feebly held antique glass, as rusty wire cast a honeycomb pattern from the setting sun.

As I peered into the reflection of amber and gold, my mind’s eye caught a glimpse of gingham and apron strings.

In one fluid motion, she swept wispy strands of gray hair from her eyes, and gathered the edges of her apron together, to form a makeshift egg basket.

My heart wanted to run, with child-like glee, into the soft folds of her middle, breathing deeply the unconditional love of a grandmother past.

But, as soon as the ghostly image appeared…

It, just as quickly, vanished.

I wrapped my arms tightly around the visceral image, as grateful tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

And I offered thanks.

For sweet memories of simpler days.

And for love

Which will, forever, traverse the boundaries of time.

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