His large frame stirs silently.
Grandpa is always the first in the house to be up and about just before sunrise.
I hear the tinkle of cowbells in the distance. I am nestled under layers of blankets and quilts piled high on the brown mohair couch. His muffled rustling tells me he is quietly getting dressed so as not to disturb my sleeping grandma. He'll struggle into his time worn wool pants and one of the four plaid shirts he owns. The curtain moves aside that drapes the doorway to my grandparent's bedroom.