Festival

Another Festival bites the dust-did you see the fireworks? I raced with your cousin's children in the back field but I didn't name the fireworks as they blasted above the tent. I'm tired--too tired to sleep and too tired to cry. I never thought about having grandchildren until after you died. I always figured you would give me a handful, but you moved to the stars before you ever had the chance. I see you in the faces of the youngsters, the teenagers, the blue-eyed babies that fall asleep in their mother's arms. I used to hold you tight, and you would stare into my eyes as if trying to memorize every wrinkle.