
As the sun comes up, sitting on my porch drinking a cup of tea and listening to the chirps and songs of the birds through the woods has to be the most peaceful place ever. I hear roosters in the distance, a variety of little birds, a woodpecker somewhere far away, and the lonesome cooing of a dove.

When I hear that dove, it takes me back to a place and time that existed when I was a little girl, sitting on the porch of my Papa and Grandma. Even as a child, I would hear that lonely song of the dove and think how sad it must be, and yet, it was a comfort to me.
Many times I would sit on Papa's lap and rub his old, wrinkled hands and push on the mushy fingertips and thumbs and wonder why his hands were so different from mine. I would see Grandma quietly sitting in her chair, with her legs crossed, looking down the road toward all her beautiful flowers, and wonder what she was thinking.

Grandma and Papa weren't the type to get down on the floor and play games, or bustle about trying to keep me busy, they were quiet...steady....a strong force.

Grandma would let me take down her hair, that had never been cut, from it's ever present bun on her head. She would drape it across the arm of her old rocking chair and I would gently pull a comb through those long strands of charcoal, white and silver. She would let me put my coloring book across her lap and we would quietly color pages without saying a word, but yet enjoying each other's company.
Papa and I would take many trips up and down the dusty, dirt road, my little child's hand in his big, worn hand. Not many words were spoken, but a lifetime of memories were made.
I miss Grandma and Papa and the serenity they created in that old log house with the large, plank porch.
Proverbs 13:22 A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children...