Jennifer Griffin

George’s Hidden Will

“Georgie?” My mother’s voice drifted down the hall and found me sitting upon my grandpa George’s desk chair in his office. The room had always felt warm and inviting. The Turmeric colored walls were barely visible behind the stacks of bookcases that lined the room. Since his death the emptiness of the room was almost unbearable. In an attempt to keep my tears at bay I glanced up at the ceiling. A single fan over the desk seemed to float amongst the mural of cherubs flying through clouds. The beauty of it never ceased to amaze me.