Poppie

Candace Rosovsky

It was winter. Mom, Dad, my twin brothers, and I had gone to our ocean cabin for the weekend. We'd spent nearly all day, bundled against the rain, playing on the wide sandy beach.

Then we huddled around the fireplace, getting warm before bedtime. Late that night the phone rang. It woke me, and I listened while my dad answered. He didn't say too much, but when he hung up, he came over to me. He sat down and told me Poppie had passed on.

At first I cried. Poppie was my great-grandfather, and I loved him and didn't want him gone. Then I looked over to the corner of the cabin where Poppie always used to sit during the summer months when he lived there. I began to remember the good things he had taught me.

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