resolved

 And as they sat and chatted of the years gone by a smile came to his face for the memory of it all. From horse drawn wagon to driving a Desoto Floyd had done it all. That is his name, and he was my great grandfather. He is seated on the right resplendent in his suit and tie wearing his Sunday best. It was a big day this day, his moment in the spotlight, his time to be the authority. He was soon to leave his home and his treasures were on display in the yard. A photographer from New York City was there to capture all of that as he explained their uses and told his tales of old. These items were going to a museum now, forever to be preserved, a tribute to time. He was assured his name would be attached to the display, a sort of immortality. A lifetime of memories once covered in dust sitting in lonely rooms now exposed to the light of day to be admired. If only those artifacts could speak. But that was his function on that day, to speak for the past.

  The man seated with him was Charlie Mott a neighbor and lifelong friend. Mr. Charlie as I knew him often came to visit, smoke his pipe and talk about whatever old men discuss. On this day I suspect the conversation turned to the old days and the old ways. Charlie knew Floyd well; they had grown up together. Little remained secret between them, their lives intermingled as is the case in small towns everywhere. Happiness, grief, sorrow, triumph and failure. They spoke of yesterday with the familiar conversation of today. 

  Then the day was ended, his memories packed away, transported to another place for another time. He would never see those things again as they weren't placed on display but stored away. I did go some years later and visit the museum where these items were to be displayed. I saw not a one and nowhere did I see his name. I inquired about that but was met with, I don't know. It appears Floyd and his contributions had been forgotten. But I haven't forgotten. I have my memories. And with those memories comes a smile, an understanding of time. I think that is what Floyd is smiling about in the photograph as Mr. Charlie shares his thoughts. Old friends remembering. Old friends sharing secret knowledge that comes with age and the passage of time. All is resolved and a smile remains. A smile for the memory of it all. 

  That is the best any of us can hope for. A life well lived, memories made, and memories saved. A chance to tell our story, and in the end, a smile. A knowing smile. A life resolved. A life resolute in that knowledge. Content. That's about it, I think. It's enough.