We have my dad's childhood bed in our home now. Finn has slept on a mattress on the floor since moving here last Summer. He is delighted at a real bed and I am happy to have him nestle into a place where his papa once slept. I like the idea of Finn's foot kicking the same foot board and his tiny finger tapping the same headboard as my dad once did. My grandmother seemed pleased that we took it and she gave me other amazing items to take to our home that day. She seemed to exhale as more stuff left her sun porch and tucked into our truck. She filled us up with the past and I wondered about how far away those images of her boy being tucked in that wooden bed are from her 87 year old mind? The older I get I seem to become more and more nostalgic and at times sentimental over the past. It seems to get worse with each child's birthday. Maudlin threatens. How does Gran let go and how does she not look at all of us and freak at the passage of time? I think at a point there must be a surrender. There must be so much joy that you just let go. You must just float.