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at I wanted to do was go to my room; lock the door; and be left alone。
“I find it really helps to clear the mind;” he said; and that's when I realized that this wasn't just
a walk — this was an invitation to do something
together。
I stood up and said; “Yeah。 Let's get out of here。”
For a guy who'd only basically ever said Pass the salt to me; my granddad turned out to be a
real talker。 We walked our neighborhood and the
next neighborhood and the next neighborhood; and not only did I find out that my granddad
knows a lot of stuff; I found out that the guy is funny。 In a
subtle kind of dry way。 It's the stuff he says; plus the way he says it。 It's really; I don't know;
cool。
As we were winding back into our own territory; we passed by the house that's going up
where the sycamore tree used to be。 My granddad
stopped; looked up into the night; and said; “It must've been a spectacular view。”
I looked up; too; and noticed for the first time that night that you could see the stars。 “Did you
ever see her up there?” I asked him。
“Your mother pointed her out to me one time as we drove by。 It scared me to see her up so
high; but after I read the article I understood why she
did it。” He shook his head。 “The tree's gone; but she's still got the spark it gave her。 Know
what I mean?”
Luckily I didn't have to answer。 He just grinned and said; “Some of us get dipped in flat; some
in satin; some in gloss…。” He turned to me。 “But
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every once in a while you find someone who's iridescent; and when you do; nothing will ever
pare。”
As we walked up to our front porch; my grandfather put his arm around my sho
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