scribblechic

Each of us have personal holidays, dates that seem to resonate within us.  These days are typically mapped on our hearts, unmarked on calendars.  Each year, on this day, I indulge in a moment of remembrance for the man I called my Bumpa.  A silly name for a strong, quiet man who lived with grace, generosity, and wisdom.  If I close my eyes, I see him walking tall ahead of me as I shadowed him through his day waiting for an opportunity to sit together in silence underneath a tree, an easy company in the absence of words. Humble and humorous, I miss his smile today.