November 4, 2008. The world is watching history unfold with bated breath. I’ve already been in the hospital for a few days. My grandfather suffered a bout of delirium while walking the dog and forgot where he was. The dog took him home. I took him to the ER. Every hospital room is filled with talking heads including ours’. Grandpa is a proud man even in his state. He slicks back his hair just about every time the nurse walks in. And he’ll be goddamned if he eats another bland, overpriced hospital meal. Josephine sits with him while I grab tastier fare. I return just in time. People are cheering. People are hissing. History is happening. And there sits The Lion. My hero. My best friend. A shell. Jo’s eyes are filled with tears at the news. I turn to see my grandfather’s reaction. He looks back at me, more concerned that his box of fries is now empty. I smile. “Grandpa, would you like another box?” He smiles back, looks down at his gown, wires strewn about, “Why not? Can’t dance.”
Copyright © The 10th Street Hobos
Entries Feed and Comments Feed
15 queries. 0.833 seconds.