In a bit of change of pace, yet in keeping with the theme of my last post, I've decided to post something my sister wrote way back in high school.

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Memories

They've been here many times before, the old man and the little girl. She's two, maybe three, and is dressed in a frilly, lacy dress and has dainty hair ribbons in her pale blond hair. On her feet are tiny white boots, so grown up for such a little girl. The man grasps her tine hand in one of his large ones, with a touch so gentle, she looks up with eyes full of a child's love and trust. They talk together in her limited vocabulary. She's always learning. Sometimes she'll sing, or laugh or simply smile in delight, as she does when she sees a new flower, bird or tree.
They'll stop, as always, in an ice cream parlor. He'll place her on the counter and simply order her favorite, unable to resist her childish smile. They eat their ice cream and the continue on their way.
There is a certain bond between these two, a bond of love and trust. A bond of innocence and wisdom. An unnatural bond between grandfather and granddaughter.
They've been here many, many times before, he and that little girl that I used to be. They've walked continually through the gateways in my mind that we call memories. He's not with us now but yet... He still lives on. Without my memories, he would truly be gone.

- Alecia Clark (James at the time...)