That day.

Her youth burned in her eyes that steamy Christmas morning.
Who knew such a simple thing would ignite the nostalgia she craved.
Her face glowed with a sheen not caused by the hands of summer; her innocence had been uncovered if only for a few minutes.
Life stopped and all I saw was her gliding into the days of childlike hope with such fluidity.
That scooter was the key to her soul.
She too was young once but it took a trip down my driveway to reveal that glimmer in her eyes that had been clouded by living.
My grandmother that day - a perpetual child aged only by her body.

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