Sep 2012
They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, that’s what they say any way.
Thinking back to my days as a child, I remember my grandmother’s house and the times I spent there with my brother. I remember so many things about those days. My grandmother had lost her husband before I was born, and had replaced him with a bottle of bourbon. The bottle was in every memory I had of that place, like a picture on the wall or a specific piece of furniture and she was always cooking something or canning something for people who never visited. Her life seemed so sad at times, but what stood out were her eyes. To me they always seemed like looking through the broken windows of an old ramshackle home and watching children laugh and play on the ***** living room floor.
They say that they eyes are the windows to the soul, that’s what they say any way.
Thinking back to my days as a child, I remember my grandmother’s house and the times I spent there with my brother. I remember so many things about those days. My grandmother had lost her husband before I was born, and had replaced him with a bottle of bourbon. The bottle was in every memory I had of that place, like a picture on the wall or a specific piece of furniture and she was always cooking something or canning something for people who never visited. Her life seemed so sad at times, but what stood out were her eyes. To me they always seemed like looking through the broken windows of an old ramshackle home and watching children laugh and play on the ***** living room floor.
They say that they eyes are the windows to the soul, that’s what they say any way.
My apologies to all for not writing for such a long time, I have been otherwise occupied with certain events in my life afar. Hopefully I will not be held up much more but my tour of duty is almost over. I sometimes find myself dreaming of December.
