As the light began to creep through the windows we sat and breakfasted together, my boys and I. We chatted about the robins and the plans the day held. We laughed and scolded and the cereal flowed freely.
It was good.
The morning sun reflected off of the ocean waves as we crab hunted. The joy of our yearly pilgrimage to the water was a tangible gift as they played with a cousin and grandma seldom seen but much loved. The salt air was the condiment as we ate together and spoke of times past when I would visit this beach and walk, grade mediocre papers and pray.
Under the afternoon sun little hands reached for berry after berry. Some even made it to the pails as we talked about cream and jam and the joy that is a Fraser Valley raspberry.
In the twilight we tucked tired bodies into bed. We discussed the day's adventures and the promise of a special treat in the morning for obeying boys.
The moon's first rays shone into the room as I stood in the kitchen and spoke on the phone with my mom. We talked of her father, a life well lived and the hope we shared together.
When the light was all gone my grandpa met face to face with the one he had loved for so long. Praise was spoken.
It was very good.