disdain

i miss them.
it hurts.
i cry a lot now.
a lot.
for no real reason.
my grandmother's stiching on my pillow case.
the chiming of my grandfather's grandfather clocks.
paintings.
little black sambo.
baby blankets.
handkerchiefs.
folded paper.
beautiful things.
silent tears.
an aweful lot of them.
mom asked me what i wanted from their house.
"nothing," i said. "i have plenty."
i do have plenty. i don't need anything other than memories.
what i wanted to say, though, was "i want grandma and grandpa back."
that's really all i want.
like a child who doesn't understand.