It is now dusk and I am sitting on the back porch behind the screen door. A breeze through the screen carries the aroma of honeysuckle mixed with the smell of mom’s sweet apple pie. At the back of the yard is a weathered picket fence and a gate. I rise and begin to make my way through the gate into the dusky shadows. There are people out there in the back field faintly whispering.
I make my way through the tall grass and finally reach the people. One man is sitting on a tree stump smoking a pipe. I walk forward and quickly realize that he is my grandfather. He is my grandfather who I never had the chance to meet, the grandfather who has had such an influence on me without physically being here on earth.
Then I noticed an old woman who is telling a story about her childhood. I open my ears and listen and suddenly realize that I have heard this story before. My grandmother use to tell me this story when I was young. This woman is my grandmother!
As I keep looking around I realize that all of these people are people that I know, that I love, and that I miss. I soon walk over to an empty tree stump and sit down.
I listen to their conversation and can’t help but wonder why they are here. Why are they here? Why can’t I talk to them and why can’t they see me?
At this time I am very tired now and my eyes are beginning to close on me.
The last thing I remember is my grandfather talking about how he used to have to go pick his own switch when he was in trouble.
At this moment I awake to find no one around. It’s just me in the back field by my house. All I hear are the birds chirping and all I feel is the wetness from the morning dew.
What a dream.