My Treasure (Part II)

My grandparents’ cottage was simple. The back door opened into a small utility room with a soft yellow carpet, bare walls, and a washer and dryer. To the left a door led to the cozy kitchen/dining room that bragged soft brownish hues. Off the kitchen was a tiny pink bathroom and two smaller rooms. One of them was used for storage, while the other was used as a sewing room. At the front of the house the living room sat next to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s bedroom.

When I arrived at their house, I found them sitting at the dining room table grinning widely and looking out the large window next to them. I was surprised to find my Grandma’s hair still black after 78 years. Of course, she was part Canadian Indian. Grandpa still looked the same. He had all of his hair, which was a light sandy blond with flex of gray, and his kind, gentle eyes were a baby blue. The only difference was his cane, but that made him look more distinguished.

“Hello, sweetie. It’s so good to see you again. You look great. Have you been working out?”

I gave them both a kiss on the cheek and a hug and said, “Yeah, some.”

“Oh no. You cut your hair. It used to be so full and long,” said Grandma. “Why did you cut it?”

“It was in the way, and I got tired of putting it up every day for the army, so I decided to cut it short. It’ll grow back,” I replied.

Grandma smiled and said, “I know, love. Say, would you like to play a game of Scrabble with me?”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

As we sat and played, I noticed that Grandpa got up from his chair at the kitchen table, walked to his recliner in the living room, sat down, then got up a few minutes later and made a return trip to his chair in the kitchen.

At one point, while Grandpa was sitting his recliner, I asked, “Grandma? I noticed Grandpa keeps making trips back and forth from his chair in the kitchen to his chair in the living room. How come?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “I think he’s trying to reassure himself that he is still able to walk without falling over. He’s so afraid of falling. It seems like he’s getting weaker every day.”

The rest of the day we watched television, talked, and enjoyed each other’s company. That’s all I really wanted anyway. That evening, as my mom arrived to spend the night, I left and drove home knowing I had just made some of the best memories of my life.