I remember once...

When I was younger, back when grandma was still living in the house with us -- but after she'd already had the stroke -- that I was having a conversation with my grandfather. He was sitting in the kitchen in the chair he always sat in if he was in the kitchen, and I was standing in the doorway leaning against the open doorjamb. Our kitchen doesn't have doors. Just an open doorway.

Anyway, I remember he told me that I was a strong person and he could just tell. I thought it was odd that he would say so, and I told him there wasn't any way you can tell something like that just by looking at a person. And he said that I was wrong, that he could tell because of the way I held myself, the way I carried myself when I moved.

I remember that, and for some reason it popped into my head this morning. Odd, but its a bit of nice nostalgia to think of.