This morning I woke up, and got a little sad.
I had a dream I was at my Grandma’s house. We were sitting on the back porch talking. The back porch of the house that my grandfather built.
This is my mother, as a little girl, while the house was being built.
I love having dreams about my grandparents. Because for just a little while, it is like they are back. I’m talking with them, enjoying their presence.
But then, I hate having dreams about my grandparents. Because right after you wake up, you have that moment when you remember reality, and it makes you sad all over again. For moments before, Grandma was there, and now she’s not.
Just feeling a little reminiscent this morning.