And all I remember from it, is them.
Grandmother sat on her little couch. With her feet up on the table in front of her.
Grandfather sat in his chair. With his feet up.
I sat with Grandmother.
Then I went to sit with Grandfather.
Then I went back to Grandmother.
Then I went back to Grandfather.
I know I was spending the night. I don’t remember how old I was.
I don’t know if any words were spoken. I don’t remember them. I just remember going back and forth. While they watched television. And I just took comfort, by the minutes, by being with whomever I was with in that moment.
The memory is clear. Of them. Letting me go back and forth.
I don’t have a clue why I was there. I don’t have a clue to what may have been going on between them in their adult world and language. It’s not part of my memory.
Being with them and taking those small child steps, back and forth, from one to the other.
It’s just a very sweet memory to me.
There’s value in that.