So Sunday was my 28th birthday. I spent it flying home from the Twin Cities, and then going straight from the airport to the hospital my grandfather had been admitted to last Thursday. He finally agreed to be admitted in order to stabilize his heart and lung failure.

Grandpa and I have had our differences in the years since Grandma died, but I don't find myself thinking about them so much these past few days. What I'm thinking about now is watching him spend days at a time raking leaves on their four acres when I was four or five years old. So much time raking in the fall air. Gray skies. And instead of just bagging the leaves and being done with it, he let me jump into the piles while he timed me with his stopwatch. When I had obliterated a pile with my hurtling 50 pound body, he would rake them back up, and we would begin again. And again. His patience and encouragement were endless as he cheered me on to run as fast as I could and make the biggest leaf splash possible.

PS - it's not as if my birthday was bad, though. It was great to see my parents, and Mister Boyfriend and I went out for a lovely birthday dinner.