It was a day of wandering. It was a day of memory. It was a day of lost memories.
It was a day of visiting the graves of the maternal grandfather, the paternal grandmother, the paternal grandfather. It was a day of trimming long blades of grass missed by the groundskeepers and a day of digging moss from the grooves where metal meets stone.
It was a day of helping move the brother from a house he once shared to a townhome now his own.
It was a day of pizza and Oktoberfest lager as we reminisced about our youth and better days. It was a day of our mortality looming large. It was a day of change. It was a dynamic day in many ways and a static day in others.
It was a day of sorrow and a day of laughter.
It was a day to drive back home and climb into bed with a book and read and fall asleep with the book on my chest. It was a day that ended in dream.
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