A nickel fell onto the carpet and the girl in her overalls jumped with delight. It wasn't the first time it happened that afternoon, but each time it was met with the same joyful laugh, followed by a sonorous "Oh, my! Where DO they come from?"
The young girl looked up into the smile above and mirrored it, casting her own light into the reflection. "Again?" she begged.
A large, warm hand brushed her hair off her forehead with the tenderness only found in those who have lived long enough to understand the need to be gentle at times like this.
"No, sweetie. I'm sorry. Not again. But you'll remember, won't you?"
"I will. I promise." She replied, grinning into the growing brightness we can only stare into in a dream. "I promise"
"I knew you would."
With one more light brush of that hand against her sweet, soft cheek, she closed her eyes slowly, "I love you."
"I love you, too."
She woke with damp cheeks. Sadness washed over her in a wave, then love warmed her. She smiled and turned to find a nickel on the pillow next to her. She laughed and remembered again.
Just like she promised.
Once again, I find myself trying to capture the essence of someone I cared for, even if I was only allowed to be in their presence for a short time. I was always happy to listen to him speak, and answer his probing questions, no matter the subject. He listened intently and was friendly in a way that our society will forget, and he held his wife's hand for longer than I have been alive.
Doctor David Eastman, I remember you. I remember your gentle disposition. I remember watching your face light up, the sound of your laughter, and the feel of your hand when we last parted. I will carry you in my heart as so many others do.
Thank you for the privilege of your company. Thank you for showing us what it means to care for those around you. Come sit on the porch with us in the coming autumn breeze and listen as we fill the air with the memories of you.
Merry Meet Again