The Promises We Make

Oh, how I love sunsets. And never do I look at one without thinking of my grandma. An amazing artist, she often painted sunsets while skillfully capturing the sun glow so it jumped off the canvas.
Later in her life when her sight failed her, she wrote stories. And I often sat by her side serving as her loyal scribe.
During one session, we held each other’s hand and made a promise. We promised each other that if there was ever a time when we weren’t both on this Earth at the same time, we’d think of the other person whenever we saw a sunset.
She died the next year.
And with last night’s sunset radiating from these Portuguese skies, I imagined my sweet Grandma meticulously painting it from Heaven for all to see. Promises made. Promises kept.

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