Last night I dreamt about two of my grandfathers; it was a sweet dream. It was sunny out, the golden kind of sunny where everything glows. They were both hale, healthy and strong and they were carrying heavy things for me. They were joking and laughing and when I ran over to them they both smiled at me. I kissed them each on their cheeks and told them that I loved them and then I ran on.
I don’t remember where I was running to or what else was in the dream, but I have the feeling that I will carry this memory forever, cherishing the moment, real though it may not be, because of the perfection of it and the realness of the love, given and taken, between them and myself.
They are both still alive, thank God, although not quite as robust as they were in my dream, and I look forward to the next time I get to kiss them and tell them how very much I love them. I may even remember the dream when I do so.