by Paul Ilechko
The world of the grandfather has always existed. The world of the grandfather, dusty and gray, softly backlit, with a fluttering trail of individual motes still visible in the fading light — all this will always exist. As one generation of grandfathers quietlyfades into inevitability, as that quizzical lighttumbles head over heels down the darkly grained wood of the stairway, down from that musty dark room, smelling softly of grandfather ... well, you will find that another generation stands ready to take on that grandfatherlyrole. We stand, ready, waiting for the stiffresponsibility portended, to be the last manstanding, the one whose presence allowsall others to continue to dream in peace.
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