Dr. Nasey.

My grandmother passed away last month, but nobody found her corpse until a week ago.

Hazards are living out in the mountains, I suppose. My uncle couldn't believe it.

He'd been driving her groceries and supplies once a month, and according to the coroner's report,

she'd died a day after he'd left. What are the chances? To hear him tell it, she was just fine

when he'd driven away, too. Spry as she'd ever been. She was even getting her own water

from the river, and doing a bit of fishing on the side, and then poof deceased.

Griff, her golden retriever, was gone now, too. My uncle thought he probably took off after

realizing grandma wasn't waking up, maybe got hungry, and went off chasing squirrels in the woods

or something. My uncle strolled about and called Griff's name for hours after he'd found grandma,

looking in all his usual hiding spots, but had no luck. My opinion, Griff probably got as far

away as he could. After the funeral, my brother and I offered to come up and help our uncle clean

up her things, or at least my brother did, and I got guilt-tripped along for the ride. Apparently,

she left the cabin to the two of us in her well. Split custody, not that either of us wanted it.

Weed more than had our fill of memories out there. That said, it was a nice day to tidy up a

dead woman's things. The summer sun shone bright, and there wasn't so much as a cloud in the sky.

Overhead, Sparrows darted between the towering pine trees, flitting around the cabin,

small clearing while they sang their bird song. I'm going to bring this stuff down the mountain

and head in for the night. Uncle Jake said, just during due his pickup truck full of grandma's

furniture. You two are going to take off soon, or spend the night? He looked like the spitting

image of a mountain man, standing there with his tree trunk arms and red flannel shirt. The

beard was the cherry on top. We'll be heading out soon, I said. Don't worry about us.

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