Grandfather used to love this window. Maybe it was not love but then out of his twelve bedroom mansion, I always found him there early in the morning and late in the evening. He was always looking.


I was small so the world seemed vast and incomprehensible but now I can see what he was looking, it was the golden sun sets and sun rises if not his enormous ranch that extended towards the skies.


Grandfather used to be a wise man but all these memories of him seemed to be replaced by one memory. I could no longer remember when he used to sit me down on the floor beside his chair and describe the ladies of his age.


He always said that girls nowadays have smaller breasts but then I was small, boobs did not matter as much then as they do now. Grandfather was old but that had not altered the life in his words and stories.


Now, I can only remember how I had found him lifeless on the ground below his beloved window the curtains fluffing on his dead face like it was just business as usual. Grandfather had left me his twelve bedroom mansion and his ranch that extended towards the skies but most of all, grandfather left me this window. Where I come every morning and every evening to watch the sun and hear my grandson play with his toys.


Had I just been grandfathered?


Words: Dennis Peters

Photography: Mukiri Gitiri

[Mukirivity- Ingenious art and text made comparative]

7 thoughts on “Grandfathered

  1. Pingback: Grandfathered | Dennis Peters

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