Perhaps I like grandparents because before too long I will join your ranks. On the other hand, perhaps I like grandparents because of my own fond memories of fishing the cold deep lakes of northern Washington State with Grandpa Julian, or swinging onto the combine with Grandpa Jesse during the annual wheat harvest. Perhaps it is because I can still feel the deep sorrow as I wept by the coffin of Grandma Marion, who loved me always, or of sitting with Grandma Pauline as she turned 100 years old a couple weeks before her passing. She did not remember me at that moment, but when she learned I was living in Texas, she remembered stories of her grandfather’s homestead in Pilot Point.
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