Memories have a way of sneaking up on you, of taking you by surprise. One second you are heading out the door for an autumn walk, and the next you are swept back to fall and football and leaves on the small town Nebraska streets and your hand in your grandpa's. He and grandma have been dead for ten years, and yet in that one small moment you swear you can hear his voice and smell what his his hugs felt like. Would he be proud of me? What would he and grandma think of my house? What would their faces have looked like when I told them I was (finally) dating someone? Would they have cried at my wedding? Would he still give me kisses on the cheek, rubbing his whiskers to make me laugh? Would we still be playing intense games of UNO and Aggravation? Words come out of someone else's mouth and if you close your eyes you can see the man who said them first. And even though he has been dead for months, you can still see that twinkle in his eyes and feel the love of his ...