I fit the criteria to scratch two items off that list, but the usual time constraints of my life held up the process so that it was a long time coming when I pulled up to the mall he asked me to meet him at, and watched his 6'6" lean figure walk around my SUV and jump in the passenger seat. He was adorable! Not from around here, his rather thick french accent was nice (he apologized for it), especially when the first thing he said was, "You're even sexier in person!". We had been wracking our brains to come up with a place to park, but as it wasn't even noon yet and the sun was shining brightly, secluded areas were hard to come by. Not one to be twarted so easily when cock is on the horizon, he gave me a few brief directions and I drove us to the entrance to a trail network in the bush. I parked and we got out, and he led the way into the bush down one of the trails, both of us keeping an eye out on either side for a good spot to hide out in. The trail veered one way so we. As the service droned, on my mind slipped back to remembering Harley cutting his present for Emma and walking to the candy store in his later life. Not with me. Not with Dan and Carol, but with their four children scampering around him like Mickey used to scamper after us. Each would take a turn holding his hands. After his purchase at the store he’d take them up to Emma’s grave and tell them wonderful stories of events and times past. They’d began to call him “Great Gramps,” which always seemed to bring a smile to his lips. My daydreaming was broken up when I realized the service had ended. Carol took the children to the basement banquet room as the women all agreed that viewing Harley in his casket and later, the internment at the graveside alongside Emma was not suitable for them at their young age. She’d wait for our return for an hour of sharing and refreshments prepared by the various ladies groups. I followed mom to the casket with Grace’s hand tightly in mine. Her other hand.
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