That’s the nice thing about a blog. It’s always waiting here for me to tell a story or two.

My grandpa Dewey always said, “Come again, sometime.” We thought it was pretty funny, because often he said it a) when you were no where ready to leave, or b) when he was visiting at my mom and dad’s house.  It was always worth a chuckle. Now that phrase has become a staple of our lives. My dad always says it when we part. Just for the fun of it. And whether consciously or not, my mind and heart focus on my handsome (and unique) grandpa Dewey.

This weekend, Richard was cleaning out our front coat closet. I saw he had moved my grandpa’s beat up old cane that I have kept, since his death, on the rail in the closet. First at our condo, then our old house and, for the past five years, here. I reminded Richard that I like to see it.  He told me it was cumbersome with the limited space in the small closet. We left it at that as I was distracted by some other activity.

This morning, when I went to get my coat, I saw this.

It’s moments like this that remind me how blessed I am that my husband knows my heart.