Friday, February 4, 2011
A small story of mine
"Someone is here to see you!" I waited for my grandmother to change expression but she sat there blankly. I walked into the room. I walked in that special walk that helped her remember her baby boy, my father. All of my visits are mostly out of pity but it makes me feel better as a person to attempt to grasp of what memory she has left. I am the only family member left to talk to her. She may have been mentally ill before but this time she was harmless. I had on a plain gray bowling shirt and jeans. I kept my hands in my pocket as I waked. I tried to walk a loose and laid back as I can. I kept my long hair stuck up in my baseball cap. It helped her some days but made her worse others. I stood there with my hands in my pockets but my thumbs out. I awkwardly stood there as she, once again, observed my new profile. After a few minutes of awkward greeting, my grandmother smiled. "Come, sit. I have made diner." my grandmother went to the kitchen. I always made sure that I would make and have her helper deliver the lasagna. I sat down at the table and waited. "here we are" my grandmother sat down the plate and put the fizzed drink on the table. I began to eat when she sat down. I knew too well not to wait or ask if she was going to eat. I ate as she watched. Watching me eat was the most fascinating thing to her. I watched in the corner of my eye as she smiled and enjoyed my eating. I knew not to look at her back but to act as if I didn't notice. When I was done, I set my knuckles on my thighs and leaned back, swishing my tongue back and forth in my mouth. I stared forward and counted to forty. I looked down. My plate was gone. I counted to one-hundred three and soon enough, desert was sitting on my new plate. I ate that too and gave her the gesture that I was done. She picked up my plate and went into the kitchen. After thirty minutes, I got up and went to the bedroom. There she was, sleeping as always.