sweet work of art , crafted with love , may not have brought him the much deserved fame that he enjoyed in later years , but to Mona , it was a priceless expression of who he was . She sighed , remembering .
Her grandfather had left the village years ago , despite Mona ’ s pleadings . He came back frequently for joy-filled visits , but his restless spirit compelled him to return to his secret den in the city , where he crafted words into magical tapestries , which captivated readers from all over the world .
A lone tear slid down her cheek . In the last letter that she received , he ’ d said he was desperately tired . Her heart was heavy as she wondered if she would ever again bask in the warm glow of his presence , and be soothed by the balm of his wise words .
Mona had spent many happy days with her beloved grandfather , but one day in particular stood out from among the rest . He had arrived in the valley for a visit on a beautiful summer morning , and found Mona writing stories at her desk . She glanced up with delight as he peered over her shoulder to see her work .
Jumping up to greet him , she exclaimed , " Grandpa , I missed you ! Do you have any new stories for me ?” His soft answer surprised her .
“ I ’ m weary of stories now , dear Mona .” He stood up . “ Let ’ s take a walk .”
“ I ’ m puzzled , Grandpa ,” Mona frowned . “ You write such masterpieces , for which you receive praise from so many , and this is the special place where you come for inspiration . If you ’ re not here to write your beautiful stories , what compels your visit ?” she asked , walking in step with him .
Taking a deep breath he smiled and patted her shoulder . “ Dear one , you cannot know the pleasure of coming back home until you ’ ve first felt the pain of leaving . I ’ ve felt this pain and pleasure many times . The writer is a most miserable creature . He creates stories with the ashes of his soul before he is finally condemned to eternal silence .” Grandfather paused , letting her absorb his words , and then asked , “ Do you know where Shakespeare spent his last days ?”
Somewhat befuddled , Mona nodded , “ I read that he spent his last days in the village where he was born and raised . Knowing the end was near ; he signed his will , and died shortly thereafter .”
“ Yes , but do you know how he spent his last year ?” he persisted . Thoroughly lost at this point , she shook her head .
“ He spent his time among common people , not as a celebrity , but simply as a man who came back home after many years . He enjoyed the humble pleasure of conversations with the village folk . Weary of creating characters and performing them on the stage , he longed to enjoy the precious time he had left experiencing the warm reality of real people who had real stories to tell . This creator of profound prose was free to be himself only during childhood and his last year
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