twicketface (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twicketface) wrote2004-09-18 07:50 pm
twicketface) wrote2004-09-18 07:50 pm
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I pull into their driveway and turn off my car. I take a deep breath, not to psych myself up but to be fully present in the moment. I grab the uncooked pizza and my SHRM study book from the front seat and make my way to their back door.
My grandparents never lock their back door when they're home. I learned from my mom to just walk in and call out 'hello'. If the TV isn't too loud, grandma will spring from her armchair and make her way into the kitchen for a hug. I set down the pizza on the counter and immediately spy the homemade apple pie on the stove.
I make my way through the kitchen and into the dining room and see my grandparents each reading the paper. I stop for a moment and smile before calling out hello again and seeing both of their faces light up when they see me.
I enter the living room and give my grandma a hug. She's thin and short and I bend at the waist to put my arms around her. I shake my grandpa's hand and hand him my study book. He opens the cover and his eyes get large as I tell him about my prep class and how much material I'll have to cover. He smiles and reiterates his stance about how important education is to get ahead.
Over the course of the next two hours, they ask me about my job, the cats, Marie, the house, the accident on the highway, my car and a host of other topics. We laugh and nod our heads and smile. They playfully argue with each other and I see the love that has sustained them for 65 years.
We feast on perfectly cooked pizza and root beer and a slice of pie so delicious I had to pace myself. Grandpa's a connoisseur of foods and even he had to admit 'Oh shit, that's good pie'.
I help clear the table and we visit for a bit more before I gather my study book and depart. Grandpa asks me to help him lift a lawn mower off his workbench. He still tinkers around in the garage and fixes engines every chance he gets. He and grandma are dreading the coming winter and the way it imprisons them.
He walks me to my car and asks how many miles I have on it. I tell him 161,000 and he reels back with a smile and knocks on the hood. I shake hands with him again and pull out of the driveway. As I pass their house I wave to grandma, who's waving at me from the front door. I take another deep breath, knowing that these moments are fleeting.
My grandparents never lock their back door when they're home. I learned from my mom to just walk in and call out 'hello'. If the TV isn't too loud, grandma will spring from her armchair and make her way into the kitchen for a hug. I set down the pizza on the counter and immediately spy the homemade apple pie on the stove.
I make my way through the kitchen and into the dining room and see my grandparents each reading the paper. I stop for a moment and smile before calling out hello again and seeing both of their faces light up when they see me.
I enter the living room and give my grandma a hug. She's thin and short and I bend at the waist to put my arms around her. I shake my grandpa's hand and hand him my study book. He opens the cover and his eyes get large as I tell him about my prep class and how much material I'll have to cover. He smiles and reiterates his stance about how important education is to get ahead.
Over the course of the next two hours, they ask me about my job, the cats, Marie, the house, the accident on the highway, my car and a host of other topics. We laugh and nod our heads and smile. They playfully argue with each other and I see the love that has sustained them for 65 years.
We feast on perfectly cooked pizza and root beer and a slice of pie so delicious I had to pace myself. Grandpa's a connoisseur of foods and even he had to admit 'Oh shit, that's good pie'.
I help clear the table and we visit for a bit more before I gather my study book and depart. Grandpa asks me to help him lift a lawn mower off his workbench. He still tinkers around in the garage and fixes engines every chance he gets. He and grandma are dreading the coming winter and the way it imprisons them.
He walks me to my car and asks how many miles I have on it. I tell him 161,000 and he reels back with a smile and knocks on the hood. I shake hands with him again and pull out of the driveway. As I pass their house I wave to grandma, who's waving at me from the front door. I take another deep breath, knowing that these moments are fleeting.
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I think it's so cute when our elders cuss.
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...I feel the same way about my grandparents. I felt honored and blessed the last time I went over to their place, because they stayed up past ten o'clock just to visit with me... I know how hard that is for them, and I'd be a fool not to appreciate it.
C