This is where the old man used to sit. Every evening as the sun started to recede behind the mountains. it was his favorite chair and his favorite glass. It was his favorite time of day as the air was cooling, the tree frogs were waking up, and the mountains were aglow with the setting sun behind them.
This is where they gather. The old man's children. Once a year they gather here. They share stories of their father, a man of value, a man of principle, a man of his family. They tell their fondest memories and the words their father used to share with them.
Here they remember the man who forever shaped their lives. The man who carried them, cared for them, guided them, and inspired them. They remember a time when they had not a care in the world, and that man was their superman. They didn't need the finer things in life, just their hero.

They remember their times when money was short, the days were long and the nights were restless. They remember a man who left home at 6:00 every morning, and would not return until 8:00 at night. They recall their dad's love for them and his dedication to always doing his best for them.

And in this way the old man lives forever. In the hearts, the minds, the memories, and the stories. His iron will and unshakable dedication to his family is remembered for generations. Out in front of the house. The old, tattered, rusting and peeling house. In view of the chair. It was the old man's favorite chair, where he sat and watched the sun go down behind the mountains.

1 comment:
That was awesome.
Post a Comment
Leave your thoughts!