You sit at the table, carved down by the gnarled hands of a man whose spot now sits empty. You were young, the day that spot opened up, left for dust to collect on, but felt the pain. You lost a gentle hand to carry you through.*A few months back I stumbled on this blog by Hannah Brencher through Good Women Project, and whoa! What a grand read. I was inspired, caught up in each word I read. She has the art of writing finely perfected. She knows how to pull your heart strings, and the ones connected to thought. She gets you thinking. That is what blogs are for, as much as they are for selfish pleasure of pouring thought into reader, it is as much a place for thought creation.
It has been years now since that spot was filled with the warmth of a body. Yet each day you head to the barn, cling to the wheel of the tractor, and feel the spot where his hands once held tight. You run your hand over the spot on the seat worn thin from Wrangler jeans.
So this day you will remember a man who taught you to work hard and never stop. To love through action, through silent words.
My hope, my wish is that one day my blog will become so finely tuned, that my words will have the impact of Hannah's; that I can provoke thought and create dreams.
So that is why todays piece is written as it is. It is a piece written to honor those who served, who loved, and who taught. On this Memorial Day take time to remember the people, like the grandfather above, who taught us to work hard and never stop loving through action. Oh and do not forget to check out Hannah's blog.
