Stepping into that silent space, time stands still.

The smell of motor oil, transmission fluid, tools and dust mingle to cause memories to flood my senses. He's there shoeing a pony, stoking the wood stove, stacking berry crates for the raspberry harvest.

I hear his voice, still rich with that childish lilt that carried him through his days. I see his beautiful eyes sparkling with life. There he is, riding his tractor, plowing the fertile earth, readying it to receive the spring planting.

He reaches down and gives Patchy, our collie, a ruffle on the top of her head. The ponies nicker, he laughs----that wonderful, melodious laugh of his----and walks over to give them their treats.

Queenie, his favorite and the greediest of the ponies, bumps his shirt front. She wants his full attention as well as whatever today's goodie is. A little boy toddles in and grandpa is there to take his hand. The two of them head out to the wood shed to find just the right piece for making something. Anything. It doesn't matter what they decided to build today, because they are building it together.

I turn around and see him giving another little one a push on "Cocoa", the swing he made. Cocoa, nothing more than an old, worn out saddle that he suspended from the maple tree next to the house. Cocoa, the whole world to a young one who dreams of riding in the rodeo some day.

Memories, burned into my soul forever......along with his love.
I miss you, dad. I love you even more.