A Drizzly Morning

On a drizzly morning, Grandma Stella reflects on cherished memories of early walks in the woods with Peter, feeling his presence even in his absence. The scent of autumn leaves brings back a wave of nostalgia and a quiet smile.

It is a drizzly morning. It is still dark outside. I open the front door to cut a sprig of rosemary from the pot on the stoop. As I do so, my mind flies back to the past. Peter and I used to get up early and take a walk in the woods. The autumn leaves would feel like a deep, luxurious carpet beneath our feet. The autumnal aroma of the decaying leaves was heady. This morning, dressed only in my flannel nightgown, I paused a moment. I leaned against the door jamb. The old clock gently tic tocs the time away. In my thoughts, I can feel Peter’s hands about my shoulders as if he too remembers those morning walks. I smile at that fond memory. I sigh and gently close the door and go about my morning chores…