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out the door. You know the one I'm talking about? She's that fat one."

I snickered. My grandfather might have had Alzheimer's, but he knew she had put on more than a little weight.

My mom called me yesterday, years since that incident. She is starting a diet. "I hate to do it," she explained. "I might not be the fat one anymore."

We both laughed.

I got a phone call one evening from my mom. "You need to come home. Daddy doesn't look right."

I knew it had to be serious; a night out with friends was a rarity for me and my mom wouldn't call unless it was important. I left my friend's house, in the middle of the movie we had rented, and raced home.

I found my mother walking around my grandfather, sizing him up and down.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. He isn't sick. He just doesn't look right," she explained, still looking closely at him.

We went through the check list together and out loud. Glasses, hair short and combed, dentures, t-shirt, one long-sleeved shirt (he tended to put on "all" of his clothes at once), clean face, clean hands, close shave (very important to him), one belt, one pair of pants (we discreetly checked), shoes match, socks match, watch, wedding ring. We went through the list twice. We couldn't figure out what was wrong. Something wasn't quite right, but we couldn't figure it out.

My mom sat down on the couch and I plopped down on the floor. I mulled it over in my head. Whatever was wrong with him, it was something we should see. I felt awful. Something was wrong with his appearance and that would hurt his feelings if he knew. I had to figure it out. We sat there for over an hour, brainstorming the possibilities. Then I saw it...

He was wearing two pairs of glasses! My grandfather's old glasses had smaller lenses and frames. They fit perfectly under his new ones. The frames were the same color so it was hard to see that there were two of them.

Well, that is what we told each other. Anyone else could have walked through the door and immediately seen what was wrong. We just missed it.

The other day my husband stopped me as I was walking out the door. "Do you always wear sunglasses on your face and on your head?"

I reached up and felt the glasses I had perched on top of my head. "Yes, I do. It is a family tradition."

I laughed all the way to the car and most of the way to the store. Even though I wasn't looking through two pairs of glasses, I was still wearing two pairs. I guess everyone is right when they say I am just like my grandfather.

I saved the best

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