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The Grandfather Who Doesn't Talk Much

The Grandfather Who Doesn't Talk Much

The Grandfather Who Spoke Only When Necessary

Words are like rain. Wait for them.

I sit in the hush between the birdsong and the breeze. You don’t need to tell me what’s on your mind—I’ll wait until it shows. My hands have held hammers, shovels, books, and babies. I’ve buried more than I’ve planted, but I still water what’s growing. My silence isn’t cold. It’s just full of listening.

What I'm Into: the hush before a storm, my pipe, when I still had one, the weight of a steady hand, sunlight on corn, stories left unsaid

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