I marvel in America's standards; her body built on freedoms of speech, religion, and unending equality. I look back at my ancestors, Washington; Jefferson; the veterans before me, with their scars in mind. As I dare to glance back for a second to my fading, far away history and family, warm childhood memories and the bayonets of the fallen protect and embrace me. While a child's toys and games may seem so delighting, I have spent my time in her bosom and now I must ascend. Ascend to a new role once given to heaven's residents, the fallen founders, fighters, writers, and artists. I must become the key to the door America cannot open alone. I
Grandma's, or as I called her Monanie's, raspy voice would linger forever in my mind. Kindness surrounded her like the fresh springtime birds swirled around freshly thrown bread crumbs. She could charm any little one with the kindness in her heart, but forever would she be my grandma. A single look at her and I could spy all compassion. In her daily increasing wrinkles contained the kindness of a hundred like her. I always could feel that, with my grandma, in her flowery blue rocking chair, I could do no wrong.
Listening to the sound of manifested silence, I sat on the shag carpet floor. Looking in front of me, I could smell the sweet scent