The house isn't pretty. It's functional, neat, clean, and tidy. The window casements are tight, the doors swing well, and fasten securely. The exterior is neatly painted, and the white is accented nicely with light blue trim. Light curtains adorn the interior windows.
Flowers of every shape, size and color are arrayed in neat beds fringing the small home. A comfortable porch has a small rocking chair off to one side of the front door. The welcome mat sits in front, greeting each visitor.
The lawn is lush, well groomed and trim. The grass is fragrant, and well tended. Small cuts are made in the sod in various places to give root to rose bushes, small trees, and a couple of well-trimmed hedges.
Rocking easily in the chair on the porch, a man sits softly whittling away at a small piece of wood. What is to become of it, only the maker can guess at. Maybe a pin for a small toy, or an arm for a doll..
The large and gentle hands are calloused, but there is a deftness and care in each movement borne of years of exercise and labor. The eyes are bright, and the only wrinkles to mar the smooth face are those caused from laughter. The hair is dark, reminiscent of a cast-iron skillet. The mouth is generous, and quick with a smile. The deep chest and broad shoulders speak of a body used to hard work. The knees are no longer bothered with injury, and help move the rocker with ease and vigor.
The man looks up, and peers into the distance. Sheer joy crosses his face, as he sees someone he's been waiting for come into view.
The woman is short, and slightly overweight. A caring smile and bright blue eyes are very easy to distinguish. Her chestnut hair is long, but worn into a tightly-woven bun on the back of her head, and kept neatly in place with a hair net and bobby pins. A colorful sun dress decorated with flowers is draped over her, and sensible stockings and sturdy brown leather shoes adorn her feet. Her step quickens when she looks and sees the man sitting in the chair.
He stands, his lanky and tall frame smoothly rising from the chair with the ease from years of practice as the whittled piece of wood is forgotten and drops off his lap onto the porch floor. He focuses on her face, and descends the steps towards her.
Closing the distance, he is finally able to bring her into reach, and he grasps her hands, and looks into her eyes.
"I've been waiting for you, and it's so good to have you home mother." he tells her.
Hugging her to his chest, the love and warmth can be felt for miles, as the lonesome house now returns to a loving home.
She's gone home, and she's at peace.
I love you grandma, and even though I'll miss you, at least I know that you're home, and you're happy.
Rest in eternal love and peace.