You wake up one morning and wash your heavy eyes. Those wrinkles around your face tell of a deep story. You look into your own eyes and you find your grandfather. You finally understand him. They say your grandchildren have your eyes and crooked smile. You hope they don’t make your mistakes, but they’ll make a lot of their own. They’ll say it’s their time. But time can be funny. Your hands are hard and smooth like river rocks. You work hard for them and somewhere in time your hard work will bear fruit.