"Grandpa"
By Tara Celeste
He smells of aftershave freshly patted upon his cheeks still wet. A sweet, thick scent that wafts through the air and
across my nose. I know exactly who that is, this man who smells so sweetly of aftershave is my grandfather. I smile
up at him with exuberance and outstretch my arms so he will scoop me up from my chair. I make a grasping motion
with my hands so as he will hold me and never let go. I am 5 as I am waiting to be held. But today I am 28 and yet I
can still smell that wafting scent of sweet thick aftershave, never changing through the years. I quickly saunter
towards this wise, loving man to get the hug I have always anticipated as a child. Such comfort in his arms as he
lightly squeezes my shoulders and embraces me with a fatherly overtone. I am 5 yet again as he whispers in my ear
"You will always be my little princess".
By Tara Celeste
He smells of aftershave freshly patted upon his cheeks still wet. A sweet, thick scent that wafts through the air and
across my nose. I know exactly who that is, this man who smells so sweetly of aftershave is my grandfather. I smile
up at him with exuberance and outstretch my arms so he will scoop me up from my chair. I make a grasping motion
with my hands so as he will hold me and never let go. I am 5 as I am waiting to be held. But today I am 28 and yet I
can still smell that wafting scent of sweet thick aftershave, never changing through the years. I quickly saunter
towards this wise, loving man to get the hug I have always anticipated as a child. Such comfort in his arms as he
lightly squeezes my shoulders and embraces me with a fatherly overtone. I am 5 yet again as he whispers in my ear
"You will always be my little princess".
New Hampshire Writers Flash Fiction
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