“You do not really understand something unless you can explain it to your grandmother.” ~ Albert Einstein
Mark Collinsworth was the closest thing to a little brother I ever had. Our parents grew up together. We grew up together. That’s the way it happens in small towns. He was two years my junior but feisty as all get out and determined to be as big as me. He was my best playmate and closest confidant. We were so close that we were even baptized together. He loved baseball. He loved Matchbox cars. He loved to laugh and, when he did, his jolly cheeks reduced his eyes to mear slits in skin. Since he was a small boy, Mark had earned money mowing yards. He mowed yards until the day he died. He was only 38; heart attack. This morning the sun hit our picture in a way I had never noticed before. This evening, I mowed my yard.
Benita
It’s so nice to look at photos and remember those moments that the camera seems to freeze in time. 38 is so young! Thanks for sharing the memory.