When he died, he left me his watch.   “To remember our times together…” his note said. His second gift, I found in a small black satin bag, tied with silver ribbon. Inside… a single seed. “So you’ll always know what it feels like to hold a universe,” read the card…but I’ve gotten ahead of my story …he would have hated that.

I grew up with giant. A man I called, “Gi.” Walking on his feet, fluttering though his house, dancing on his toes and planting wildflower seeds in his gardens. “Be gentle” he would say, as we dropped the tiny seeds into the earth.  “You’re holding a universe.  If you plant it and nurture it’s life, it will give it’s life back to you and become the air you breathe and the food you eat…” In one life, he had been a farmer~ in my life, a Grandfather.

Now, every…