She wanted me to see, to take her little hand – or not, as currently they were stuffed in her pockets – but to be there, to stand on the porch in the sunshine with her, maybe go for a walk together.
For a moment, the sun was so bright it cast shadows so long as the sudden storm paused briefly, just briefly, to reveal a world – her world anyway, the front yard – gone brilliantly, strikingly beautiful.
She was certainly impressed, every bit as much as she was impressed just moments before with the lightning, the angry clouds threatening, the trees bending in the midday darkness.
She turned and looked back but against the sun I could not see her questioning, beckoning, wondering my answer to her questions:
Are you coming grandpa?
Will you come, and see?Will you go with me?