It was a rainy day. The water rain down street curbs filled with creases and crevices, like the wrinkles in grand fathers worn out slacks he kept balled up in the top drawer. A year after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, his neatly ironed slacks was not a top priority any more. Rainy days like these kept the angry old man from pounding the living room door in fear of being late for his first day of work. Grandfather would yell about bringing home the bacon, and how his years serving our great nation had prepared him for that moment. How us ungrateful kids would never know the true meaning of hard work. But nothing was more satisfying then to hear him say, “ when you grow up one day, and marry a husband of your own then you’ll know. That’s when you will understand.” Then Tired and old, still able to walk the old wooden floors of the house he built, with his bare hands I may add. He would wobble back to his rocking chair, falling asleep on his way down to rest those heavy feet. Finally, deciding to adjourn his argument for another day. But on rainy days like today. When the earth’s rain sang a song to warm the toughest man’s heart, he sat holding a green cloth in hand, rubbing the cloth back and forth, back and forth. Uttering words “I remember it was 19, 19, 19…” he could never remember. He would began to babble but the words he struggled to say never made it passed the bridge of his nose. So he just went back to rubbing his cloth. “grandfather “ I called to him, kneeling down and kissing him on the forehead. “you better not, you better not" he mumbled. Swatting my hand when I dared to grabbed his cloth. “it is time for lunch, come sit at the table.” Tucking his sacred cloth in his shirt pocket, I noticed how he never forgot where he put this piece of fabric. I never gave it much thought, I always put it back after I washed his clothes. I guess it never occurred to me why he was so attached to it. It was green with flowers, cut from a shirt or a dress. No way could it belong to him. Besides I didn’t have time to figure it out. Probably something he picked up on his day out. I shrugged it off and headed for the unfolded clothes sitting on the washer. Leaving his dish on the table, granddad made his way to his bed to nap. Folding and placing each shirt in the top draw. I don’t know what it was but the loose old dresser gave way to its grip of the dresser draw. To the floor it fell. Bending down to pick it up, I peered in the dresser to see how it had broken. To my surprise, stuck to the back of the dressers board, an old black and white photo was hidden for who knows how long. I reached in grabbing the photo, in awe of what I may see. The small rectangular picture showed a woman in a green dress, with ruffles that bordered the neck of the dress. Her long slim body aligned perfectly with the seams that caressed her astonishing figure. The same flower pattern I seen on...