Originally posted to Notes. Again, thanks for reading.
Early autumn descends across north Georgia. Appalachia falling bitter. Cold.
“Why are we at the dock, pawpaw?” What’s going on?”
“John, there’s something coming. A difficult time. A storm, you might say. It’s mom.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be, I believe.”
Moments of silence and a steady hand give hope and assurance. Pawpaw takes his watch and hands it to his grandson.
“Take this. Every so often, watch as the seconds pass away. Remember this; time gone is gone forever.”
Six years later spring rises from Appalachia. Fragrant. Welcomed.
John leaves the watch on the dock.
“Thank you, pawpaw.”