Child me takes me back to the front door. We are still holding hands. I ask her if she's ready to leave the home and step outside with me. Like all other times I've asked, she says no. She's not ready.

We're not ready.

I remember where grandpa used to sit in his rocking chair, the overly large bathroom, the small kitchen which never felt cramped, and the steamed rice rolls my grandma used to make. I remember the wind blowing through the windows and their curtains dancing to the wind's timing.

@LeafyEricScott.fosstodon.org.ap.brid.gy claypot rice

Yay for no measurable hearing loss!