Creeeeack.

The sound of a worn, faded rocking chair was the only sound in the musty living room of my Grandma's house. The clocks on the pale yellow wall had all been neglected for so long, that even they had all stopped their ticking and tocking, and their hands all stopped at two forty-eight PM. I usualy came over as often as I could to help out around the house, but there was only so much a sixteen-year-old girl could do alone.

Creeeeack.

Alone. Grandma was alone, though she didn't know it. Or rather, she refused to believe it. Grandpa had been dead for two months, but for Grandma it never sank in. She sat in his rockking chair, all day long, tracing the worn wood surface with her frail fingers. She was smothered in a large, wool blanket, the only blanket that Grandpa ever used.

Creeeeack.

Grandma's thin fingernail traced a scratch in the left armrest. I remember where that came from. I had been skatin gin the living room, flaunting my newly-boughten rollerblades that I had recieved for Christmas that morning. I slipped, as any clumsy four-year-old girl would have, and chipped my tooth on the chair. I later had to be taken to surgery to get my gums stitched together. But I remember grandpa caryying me to the car, and then holding my hand the entire ride to the hospital. Even through my tear-soaked vision I could see his encouraging smile as he told me to be brave.

Creeeeack.

My attention was drawn back to Grandma. She looked at me, hollow eyes and a watery smile. "He'll be home any moment, darling. There's no need to be so anxious. He just had to get some milk, that's all." She stared out the window at the driveway. "He'll be back.

Tears trickled down my face, but she wouldn't have noticed even if I had been sobbing my eyes out. She was waiting for her true love to come home. To this day, I'm still amazed. HIs presence no longer remained, but the air still lingered with memories; and something else.

A love not forgotten.