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"I do not know how you do it, but you always manage to get beauty as she shows."

The sky held a heavy overcast, clouds came in the shades ranging from close to steel gray and some a misty serene white. The wind blew briskly, making the leaves and debris skip across the road and the sidewalk. The trees swayed and rustled, shedding their leaves and an occasional thud of a pinecone falling. People stood out on their balconies, witnessing the storm that hung over our tiny town and watching the developments of the stages. The sky held a faint orange glow, dust was swirling in the air. The musty but sweet smell of rain and wet earth hung in the air. Monsoon season came every year around this time. For our dry town, it seemed a rare occasion to be paid its respects. My grandparents sat on their swinging bench, my grandma slowly rocking the seat back and forth gently. Her legs swung slightly. The silent ringing from the windchimes twinkled, filling the atmosphere with a quiet melody. I could see my grandma smiling, my grandpa staring at her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on her wasted cheek. It was truly a sight that could be explained as the most genuine display of affection. I sat inside, hearing the fan meekly swing in the living room. The silence caused an empty echo in my ears, a slight ringing. I twirled one of the strings to my worn out grey Old Navy sweater, biting my lip. The flowers on the dining room table sat in a dreamy glow from the dust storm, I stood up slowly. The floorboards creaked with every step I took. I made my way up the stairs, and down the hallway towards my bedroom. I pushed my door open as I reached my hand to my black Canon camera. My fingers twitched with the sort of familiar adrenaline. I saw the world in the art of simplicity. I went back downstairs, the house moaning silently as the wind picked up. I paused by the dining room table. I slightly crouched, I carefully angled the camera and caught the light casting upon the dull pink daisies. The sound of the click as I captured the picture was the only sound that filled the house for a split second. I peeked towards the living room, my grandpa held his head back as he laughed. I smiled. The sliding glass door leading to the porch creaked as I pulled it open. My grandparents turned to look at me, the smiles still worn on their faces. I nodded and smiled at them. My grandma smiled as she scooted across the bench, patting it gently as she beckoned me to come to sit with her and grandpa. I felt the camera slightly bump every step I took down the steps against my chest. "Did you take any good pictures granddaughter?" I nodded, as I pulled up the picture I had taken in the dining room of the pink daisies. She smiled. I turned to her as I asked her if I could take a picture of her. She insisted that she was not picture ready, but I swore to her it would not be a portrait. She stood up, smoothing out her dress. The dark navy blue color contrasted against her delicate pale fingers. Her wedding ring stood out, a thick white gold band with a diamond encrusted in the middle. I ran inside, my grandmother calling after me to be careful. I pulled the daisies from the vase gently. I made my way back to her, handing her the daisies as I instructed her to hold them. She gave me a questioning look but did as I asked. I looked across their backyard, leaves littered the ground and set a good background. I pointed in the direction of where I had wanted my grandmother to stand. She cocked her head and held out her arm to me, as we made our way to her designated area. She stood limply, and I assured her for the hundredth time the picture would not involve her face. I felt my boots sink into the earth as I stood, holding the camera over the tulips. I carefully posed my grandmother, as I rearranged a few daisies to make the bouquet look full. I focused the camera lens on the flowers, and with a breath, took the picture. It was perfect, it had captured the beauty of old age holding onto the youth of the flowers. The beauty of old and new. I had captured the beauty of both. Grandmother leaned forward to admire the picture. I could hear her breath getting slower, her stray gray hair tickling my cheek. She looked at me with her grey eyes, smiling. "I do not know how you do it, but you always manage to get beauty as she shows." I blushed, I knew this picture would be a keeper, I wrapped my arms around her neck, and for a moment, I felt the world settle around us as we held each other. From one youthful heart to another wise soul, I could tell you there was no perfect way to settle the moment we had. 

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