Today is my grandfather’s birthday. October 10th. Now that is a solid date. 10/10. I’m curled up on my couch, and it’s unusually dark this morning due to the rain that is coming through. There’s a candle lit and it’s filling my home with the scent of apple cider. I am leaving for work in just a few minutes, but I wanted to have a slow start today. One of my favorite things about my grandfather is that he always had a slow start to his day. I don’t know if it was like that when he was working as a lineman, I assume it wasn’t. But, as long as I knew him, he would wake up before the sun had even risen. He would go to the kitchen, make a pot of coffee, sit at the table in his robe and smoke his pipe while watching the birds have their breakfast at his bird feeders. I would hear his quiet, deep voice from the bedroom and shoot out of bed, knowing that he was awake and I didn’t want to miss a second of the slow morning with him. I would groggily stroll into the kitchen and see him sitting beneath a swirly cloud of pipe smoke. When he saw me he would say something along the lines of “good morning, my sweet Sadie.” I’d crawl up onto his lap, and he would hold me while he smoked and sipped his coffee. The light this morning reminds me of the mornings with him, pre sunrise.
I miss that man.
I’m all things autumn, these days. I’m trying to check everything off of my autumn to-do list, and am grateful for this beautiful season and the bittersweet memories that it brings up. Happy birthday, Papa.