The grandfather

He is the friendly widower living on top of the hill over there. You look out your front windows and you see him occasionally watering his flowers or mowing his lawn. His house is gray and his yard is green. There are pink flowers in his trees and rabbits burrowing in his grass. At night, under the trees, lightning bugs dance. His is the only place in the neighborhood which has that amount of fireflies.
He comes over when you're outside, and he says hello. You smile because it's always pleasant to hear the funny way he talks. He brings over his plow to help your mom in the garden. And the next day he brings over his electric hedge trimmers because he hates to see her toil with the manual ones. He brings over zucchini plants to plant beside the tomato plant he has already given you. He brings over broccoli salad and the recipe just in case you like it. He brings the little ones toys to play with, and he brings you his wife's old China set and a quilt to boot. He brings his favorite childhood books to read to the children. He comes over to sing for your family, and he teaches you the second verse to Bicycle Built for Two. He tells you stories about how life was when he was young. And he shows you pictures of the fashionable sideburns he had (which haven't shrunk much) and pictures of all the different color leisure suits he used to wear. He tells you about how God got him through college and ever afterwards. He tells you the miracles God worked in his life for every day he has lived. He tells you the best way to live is the way where you don't worry about a thing because you know God works out everything and all you have to do is go along with it all no matter how crazy it seems.