Hard to Read

I wonder who they were and what they were like.  Did they have fun while they were here or were they always serious and grumpy?  Were they well liked and have lots of friends or did they live alone, fixing breakfast for one, sipping coffee by themselves, staring out the window at a vacant landscape?

I’d like to think they were happy.  I’d like to believe they were surrounded by friends and smiles, with laughter coming from the kitchen and children playing in the yard.

I’d like to think they left nothing but smiles in their wake, with pleasant memories dancing in the minds of the friends left behind. 

If I can’t read their stone – I’ll simply read into it

leaving yet another smile.