my grampa

We drove by a sawmill on the way to my son's football game and the scent reminded me of my grandfather. He worked in a mill and he always smelled like one. My grampa was bald and wore a wool fedora. He drove the palest yellow, monster of a vehicle. The front seat was all one piece and stretched forever. We lived with my grandparents for a while and I remember being driven to school - there were no car seats then. I was allowed to stand in the front seat and I remember his arm reaching out to protect me. I remember sitting on the front porch eating fresh tomatoes from the garden. We would share the salt shaker. I remember he used to chop the best kindling for the wood stove. He loved his tea and toast in the mornings. I still dunk my toast. He loved my grandmother's mashed potatoes and he would make a well in his potatoes and pore the gravy inside. When I was older he would bring us bubble gum. He played the fiddle. And he had the bluest eyes. He has been gone a very long time.