Sunday, December 18, 2011

Gravity. Gramps. Gar.

I always said I wanted to marry someone just like my grandpa Harris.  He has more integrity than Abraham Lincoln. He is more organized that Franklin Covey and he does it by keeping a simple 3X5 card in his pocket at all times. It's quite genius really. I love his wrinkles and his brown spots all over his hands.  I love his exactness. I love how he gives you three pats on the back instead of a hug. Tonight its time for bed and I'm just thinking about how I miss my grandpa. I never ever want him to die. I want him to always play golf and be at everything. He has been the most stable consistent man in my life for my whole life until I met a curly haired broader version who loves using index cards for organizing too.  Men like my grandpa Harris and Garrett are like gravity.  They keep you grounded, they are never unpredictable, you can depend on them to be stable in any circumstance, and no matter what happens in life or where you go, you always come right back to them. I love my gravity that has wrinkles and made me wood boats to float down the ditch.  I love my gravity that I sleep next to every night too. Index cards and all.

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