How do they look exactly the same...?
Her hands were soñ and small. Just like she used to have when she was young, He thought, holding her fingers. They were sitting on the patio steps playing with chalk. She was making silly drawings and blabbering in her own language. He was clueless about what she was saying, nonetheless it was music to his ears.
He had held her when she was first born. At that moment, now her grandfather thought about holding her mom in his arms. He could tell the difference. His granddaughter is way more beautiful than her mom.
He remembers. He thought he could never hold his daughter in his arms again when she got married. He could never feed her; never teach her; never play with her again. He thought his chance was over. It feels like I’ve got a second chance, he smiled down at his granddaughter.
“Dadadada....” she poked him and showed him her scribbles. It was art to his eyes. “What is it? What did you draw for this old man?” he asked. “B” she giggled. He laughed at the toddler who forgets ‘A’ and jumps ‘B’ always. “ It looks good. Now write AAAAAA” he dragged. “BBBBBB” she dragged and scribbled again. He chuckled at her antics and looked up...
Thank you for a second chance...