You've been away too long.

 
He was smaller. frailer. shrunk.
His voice lighter. fainter. short.
and his body -
it ached in new ways
and his mind had to climb
to great heights to communicate.

so I snuck to the attic
to search for something useful,
like cards or dice
or dust or Christmas dec's
or a collection of dead flies
I could sprinkle from the skylight.

And instead I found him,
him when he was an architect,
him when he was the hand
at the back of the swing,
him when his eyes
lit up on my face

and there I found the courage
to make him sweet coffee,
little honey, slip back in,
knees against metal,
bed against chair,
palm on palm again.

2/14 Great-Grandfather's home this afternoon.