Memories are bittersweet.

I've been thinking this week, of things I did when I stayed with my Grandparents.

There was this tree that split about 5 feet from the ground from one trunk to two. It was a perfect split for an elementary schoolgirls bottom to fit in. I spent many hours in that tree reading books and day dreaming.

I remember going out to Grandma's garden with her to get fresh green onions. She grew them and they were always washed and the root ends cut off. Then she'd put them on a plate and put them on the table. It must have been every dinner they'd be there.

Grandma's sewing room used to have hippy beads instead of a door. In that room was a doll that I spent a lot of time playing with.

I remember bread and butter for snacks when I got home from school. The smell in the kitchen when Grandma cooked. Her laugh. It's breaking my heart that I am forgetting the sound of her laugh already.

I remember Grandpa's homemade bird houses and bird feeders and filling the feeders all the time. Hummingbirds coming into the house. The smell of salt water because they were within a couple block of the bay.

Grandpa was always quiet but ready to praise and hug.

I can't believe how much pain my heart is still in.