When we took Uncle Jay home yesterday, I noticed only a couple of little cement feet sticking out of the dirt near the house. I then pulled this fella out of years of decayed leaves and dirt. He's got some paint missing, and I love him all the more because of it! Every time I make it down that way since my Granny passed last November, my uncle lets me pick out a few things that were my grandparents to bring back with me. Every piece gets a special place in my home, or used every day, like the prayer bench my Pawpaw and his brother made. It sits in our massive hallway near the front door. The kids' sweaters and coats hang above it. Their backpacks sit on it. Our shoe basket beside it. It's used and loved every single day, and reminds me every time I pass by it, how much the people who made it and used it (my Granny) mean to me. I hope I can also find a prominent place for this cement fella and admire his imperfect, yet fully loved self.