Tying Up My Memories

I wanted to continue my  post about grapes. I think one day I may enjoy reading it. How grapes became a warm spot in my heart -- a memory. First of all these are grapes from the Holy Land. When I first arrived here in June, the grapes were small and sour. I still ate them just I could feel I was eating something from my father's vine. It felt good that my father's house had a mature vine that produced good grapes on it. It is now August 18. I have been through many changes -- Dad had another stroke and we spent many days in a hospital with him. Now we're home. Najwa is here. Dad is very weak.

But the grapes are black and mature now. I've eaten almost all of them. I've hardly left any of them. Yesterday, like many times before, I sat at the gate yesterday with dad. I took two big kutf grapes and we sat and ate together the grapes one by one. 

It was a precious moment that feels like a moment to do something I have come to call: Tying up my memories. It's as if I needed to touch these memories so I can let them go. Reminds me of a line of my song Sierra -- Do I have to write a song so I can let it go 

                           Do I have to make it rhyme to know that it was so

There were several open strands that were open that seem to have been closed

The Dean Martin Roasts -- with Lawanda Page

Sanford and Son

Beverly Hillbiliies

I Love Lucy (with Amo Issa)

The grapes seem to be closing up a memory. It feels like my Heavenly FAther is letting me tie up these memories to be able to let them go and move on

About the grapes: They were tiny and sour when I first came. They were green and yellow with one black in a bundle. They changed slowly with the season. This past month and a half  they matured and ripened. 

There's one memory that I would like to have "Sambo's" pancake restaurant