And I swear I saw a pair of green eyes and tawny hair, a freckled cheek. I see the way the scar on his brow shifts when he is surprised, I see the parentheses round his mouth when he smiles, the queer way he’d only show the top row of his teeth, even when he laughed. I hear the small rush of breath he’d make after saying something important, the laugh he’d do when he was nervous. I feel the tender, calloused warmth of his palm against mine, the soft pressure of his chin resting upon my hair, the gentle tension after a kiss.
...But the problem with moments like these is that they only last a moment. I blink, and I am Grandma Sara once again.