the kind man.

I know of a man who lives not too far from me. As a youngster, he towered over me, like the two large oak trees that stood parallel in his yard. Yet he had the gentlest eyes, the kindest smile.

He would stoop down beside me, to the crazy swing, we go, he'd say. And with the shove of his hand, I would glide in crazy circles, round and round.

When we tired of the crazy swing and our eyes fell droopy, he'd gently lift us, to the hammock he'd built by hand, we'd go. Back and forth and back and forth, nodding off into dreamland.

Sunny summer days found us by the water running side by side, chasing the seagulls, casting our fish lines or steering his speed boat and finding money. Splash, splash, was the name I'd give this special place, I told him.

The crazy swing taught me to embrace laughter and freedom, the hammock to appreciate rest, the lake to appreciate nature, but the years have accumulated.

The man, still tall has grown weaker. his breathing labored, his walk a little slower and his voice and laugh a little quieter: was this the man I used to know?

The peak was high, but a winding road beckoned us further. Reaching our destination, we piled out, caught our breath and then scaled a few small hills to reach 14,240 feet in the Colorado Rockies. He had his oxygen tank, but he was still climbing with us. At the top, he took in the beautiful view and I realized...

He was still the same, beneath the age.

As the wind swirled, the years blew before me and I realized it can all be gone in an instant. His health is failing fast, so I try to savor the moments I have with him now. I am so blessed and thankful to call this kind man my Grandpa.

Happy birthday, Grandpa. I love you so very, very much.