My best childhood memory is with my grandfather.
When I came home from school and took a short nap in my room, my grandfather would sit at my computer and play Solitaire. He loved coffee, so there was always a warm mug of it beside him while he played.
I remember waking up at sunset — the orange glow coming through the window, the soft smell of coffee in the air, and the gentle sound of cards flipping. As I stirred from sleep, he would notice I was awake and turn to me with a smile, saying, “Did you sleep well, young lady?” (He always called me “young lady” — I’m not sure that nuance comes across, but it was his special way of speaking to me.)
It’s the most peaceful scene I can remember. But now that he’s gone, it’s heartbreaking to realize that such moments only exist in memories.
When I came home from school and took a short nap in my room, my grandfather would sit at my computer and play Solitaire. He loved coffee, so there was always a warm mug of it beside him while he played.
I remember waking up at sunset — the orange glow coming through the window, the soft smell of coffee in the air, and the gentle sound of cards flipping. As I stirred from sleep, he would notice I was awake and turn to me with a smile, saying, “Did you sleep well, young lady?” (He always called me “young lady” — I’m not sure that nuance comes across, but it was his special way of speaking to me.)
It’s the most peaceful scene I can remember. But now that he’s gone, it’s heartbreaking to realize that such moments only exist in memories.