I think I get it now. This is a place to hang out and make small talk. This is family. I wrote this tonight for all of you. Hope you enjoy it.
Gathered 'round the kitchen table on Sunday morning, we read the paper, pour a second cup of coffee. Once in a while somebody mumbles about something they are reading. But talking isn't really necessary. Mozart and Tchaikovsky are easing us into Sunday afternoon as the sun lazily starts to burn through the melancholy but cozy overcast. Even the birds sing a sleepy song. Should probably get out of this old house robe and put on some clothes, but somehow the robe feels just right for now.
Thoughts seem to drift back to those long summers at Grandma's house. Grandma seemed to make everything in the world feel right. I don't think I will ever see a kinder face in the whole world. Tears rise up as I remember. But the tears fade and a gentle smile comes. I see her once again smiling, serving us fresh baked apple pie after lunch. Those sleepy Sunday afternoons seemed to last forever. Grandpa has put some Louis Armstrong on the old hi-fi. "What A Wonderful World" is playing. No one else could ever sing that song like Ol' Satchmo.
A nice breeze is blowing outside now and the graceful old oak trees are calling us to take comfort under their majestic boughs. Auntee has made some fresh lemonade and finger sandwiches. Duke, our old hound, is coming through the thick grass clutching an old chewed-up frisbee. He can't catch it like he used to, but he loves to try. Sure do miss that lovable old dog. I haven't had the heart to get another one. It just wouldn't seem right. When Duke was young we used to run all the way down to the saw mill. Duke would try to catch the tadpoles in the creek. Grandma and Grandpa are gone now, just like old Duke. They made life seem so easy. Sitting on Grandpa's lap on that old porch swing, I knew what a wonderful world this is.