Ah. That is wonderful. Just wonderful.
You know what a homestead has? History. And family. This man is part of mine. He is my Grandpa Larson and I love him.
I love the fact that he tells the same stories over and over.
I love that if you see a fire-engine-red Toyota zooming around town, not completely stopping at lights or signs, and almost hitting pedestrians, you know it's him.
I love that you can tell by his hands he worked hard for a living.
I love that when I was in high school and my gas gauge was broken on my Bronco, he would show up with a gas can to save me when I ran out. No matter where I was. Even in a snow storm twenty minutes across town. He came. And then bought my a gas can for my eighteenth birthday.
I love his combed over hair. For some reason, it reminds me of a little boy.
I love that he always brings me goodies that he runs across because he knows that we appreciate all second hand items. Ain't too prideful around here, baby.
I love that when he sees Georgia all he can bear to talk about is how beautiful she is. Because I'm her Mom, and frankly, I still think it's sweet people say that.
I love that he has had a girlfriend, Dorothy, for the past thirteen years. He loves that lady. And so do it. She makes the most amazing rye bread. And pie. And cookies. And roasts.
Speaking of cookies, I love that my Grandpa continually fills me with his sugar-cookie goodness. He knows my weakness.
I love that he let me walk to his house everyday after school so that Erin and I could eat his eggs and drink his Ensure. I'm sure that's just what he wanted to do - entertain middle school girls and feed them his groceries.
I love that he still talks about how crazy in love he was with my Grandma. I hope that in sixty years, my husband still speaks of me in such a joyous way.
I love that he used to milk cows, by hand, twice a day, every day. And he'll tell you about it. Over and over and over... I wish he still had a cow. For Pete's sake, does anyone have a cow I can have!!!
I love that he appreciates the life we have chose to live. He loves my pickled green beans and my homemade bread. And he'll tell you that, too.
Oh, my sweet Grandpa. I just love ya to pieces.
Praying you all have a blessed Sabbath and get to enjoy your day of rest with people as wonderful as him.
