by Emily Branwell

Created on: November 11, 2008

"Well I would let you talk to him but he's not here right now. "

"Where's he gone? The rec center?"

"Ohout"

"Out? What do you mean out?"

"Just out honey. He's not here."

"Grandmahe's a stroke victim who can't differentiate between the words truck and duck. Where's he going to go?"

"Just to the store."

"Store? What store? How did he get there?"

"Well he just walked out the back door like anyone would. Don't worry about it. He just wants a few things."

"A few things?"

"He was going to go yesterday but it was too hot we decided. We're being smart about it."

"Grandma he can't go walking around! No one knows where he is. What if something happens? Does he even have any money?"

"Stop worrying. We are grown people. He used to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes."

"He doesn't have any money. I didn't leave you any money."

"You know your grandfather. He'll do it his way."

"What does that mean?"

"Just what I said. He'll do it his way. He always has." And here she laughed the small false laughter of her mother; my great grandmother. It is our inheritance; this laughter that sounds hollow, flat and false, this laughter that has no connection to the eyes.

"Grandma what's he going to do? Steal things? What if he gets caught?"

"Your grandfather does things his way. Don't you worry. He just needs some things. You knowthat he can't get here. Always nice to talk to you honey." And the receiver clicked. Obviously all that needed to be said had been said according to my grandmother. She also does things her own way.

I flip my cell phone shut and let it drop from my hand to the floor. The clock says quarter to seven. The elderly are such early birds. Should I roll over and go back to sleep or get up and go for a jog? Peeking through the blinds covering the window by my bed to see if its raining I see my neighbor and chuckle.

Standing there with a wide angle broom in his hand in a stained pair of overalls is my neighbor, Mr. Sooper. I've benefited several times over the years from his affiliation with the Mason community. I don't know what they do in that windowless building every week and I don't care. All I know is they bake a mean cake and he and his wife always make sure I get a big pile of it on one of those high quality paper plates. To show my deep and true appreciation I always make sure I give more than the cursory laugh to the inevitable cheesy puns that pepper Mr. Sooper's daily curb side banter.

Groaning because there is no rain I roll out of bed and grab my sweatpants

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