Every day a little

Today is my three-year anniversary at my job -- and my three-year-and-one-week anniversary of moving to Chicago. Mom sent me an email this morning reminding me it's also the 30-year anniversary of her father's death. I barely remember that grandfather -- just that he was jovial and loving, but even those "memories" could be manufactured from the stories Mom and Dad have told me. Nevertheless, I've thought about him all day -- which seems the least I can do for a man who helped ensure I'm here today.