In Praise of Grandparents   My grandfather died when I was five, many decades ago. I still remember him as though it were yesterday. I remember him taking me to the vineyards with the horse and cart, to help pick grapes. I remember him by the winter fire, telling me stories of his own boyhood in Hungary. And I remember playing hide-and-seek with him for the last time just before he died. A kind, gentle man with piercing blue eyes, who had loved life. My grandmother survived him by thirty years. She was a strong woman, with character. I
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  On the brink of new beginnings Chocolates and roses! That’s what the month used to mean. For a while, she had treasured the familiarity of opening the velvet, heart shaped box. She had reenacted the comfort of placing each lush, red rose in the cool crystal vase. She had committed to memory the last poem he had written to her in the last card. All that − until his heart stopped and he was gone. All that − a lifetime ago. The month had come to mean other things for Gaby. February now represented the brink of new beginnings.
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