Tuesday, September 27, 2016

When Hope Trumps Logic

Wow, how time passes, and after a year and a half of being locked out of this blog, I finally figured out how to get back in.  But before I did, I read those old posts that seem like forever ago and a moment ago all at the same time.  It's now been three years since my grandparents left this earth for something far better than I can imagine, but I still think of them every day.  I long to call my grandma at the phone number I will never forget, or see her perched over the sink doing dishes in her rubber gloves.  I miss the perfect shortbread cookies at Christmas and her soft skin, and our talks at the kitchen table about everything.

I would give anything for one more game of crib with my grandpa, or one Saturday morning soccer game.  I feel sad that he didn't make it to the 90th birthday he was looking forward to, and that he never made it back to his home country.

Every Saturday my grandparents would go to Southgate Mall for a walkabout and a coffee in the food court.  We were at Southgate a couple of Saturdays ago and as I walked past the food court the first time I had a little lump in my throat.  As I walked by again just before we left, I looked over to the tables in front of Arby's where they always sat, and I was convinced that if I looked long enough I would see a flash of grey hair.  I looked away, and kept looking back, and part of me willed them to be there, but they were not.

For a moment, I really thought they would be.

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