Grandpa's journal is somewhat an interesting experience. Every time I read a passage, I want to immediately go forward and read the next, but I'm trying to be patient and take it one quote at a time so I can really absorb and journal the experience properly.
So, here we are at his third entry and I think I've answered my own question from the last blog post.
Except, it seriously doesn't make any damn sense.
I'm going to start with the picture I believe is associated with the entry.
I've settled comfortably into what I'm going to call my temporary home. No one has caused a fuss, and I've been here for a few days now. Last night, (night being indistinguishable from day, as previously noted) I decided to really take in the sights, get a feel for this strange old town. I walked for about an hour, the paths and cobbled roads winding this way and that. Nearly impossible to get your bearings.
Eventually, I came to what I assumed to be the edge of town. The tightly packed rows of zig-zap homes faded away and opened to a field, on the horizon a few husks of what I thought to be a farm perhaps. I continued and managed a photograph upon closer inspection.
It's Doug and Ellie's farm. I swear it, by every holy word ever uttered, it is the farm, burned to the ground. The layout is exactly as I remember. How long ago was it that we were there, Anna?
I tried to go further, but on the horizon was Green Wake. I suspected with no sun to guide me I was unable to orientate myself properly. I doubled back and continued that direction.
Green Wake was on the horizon.
I'm losing my mind.
I honestly have nothing to say at this point. I really don't know how to evaluate this kind of entry with any sort of rational explanation. I called mom about an hour after pouring over the photos, and running this note through my mind. It seriously gave me chills.
Mom had no explanation, either, of course. She had mentioned that Grandpa used to have these sort of spells when she was quite young where he'd become disoriented and talk about people she'd never heard of. She remembers one name in particular: Krieger.
She always thought that her father suffered from dementia, even from a young age. I suppose the proof is in the pudding.
Trying to end things on a happier note, Elise decided to give things another go with me. Amazing what a diamond ring can do, eh?
Guess I'm engaged to be married. Love you, baby! (like she reads this)