Exotic yet ordinary

When I was little, it was rare that I ever left my grandparents' house empty handed. My grandfather always sent some little something home with me, like the pennies he happened to have in his pocket or sticks and rocks from his driveway. Consequently, my grandfather was responsible for starting my rock collection, which has come along with me every time I've ever moved and is currently stashed in the closet in a red bucket with a white lid marked beef brains. The bucket was also given to me by my grandfather. He used to be a butcher. He's given me other things, too, like his old harmonica in its blue case, and during one visit he gave me his bag of marbles after spending the afternoon teaching me how to shoot. Occasionally, I get them down for Maya now. I'm still not very good, but they're pretty cool, those marbles. The cat's eyes are my favorite.

My grandfather has a magic shirt. He would let us grandkids sleep in it while we were there, especially if we were scared. The magic shirt made you run really fast, and we all thought this was super keen.

He built a goldfish pond for my grandmother at their house in the country. It was near the weeping willow tree. It was made of sand stone. Most of my grandfather's constructions involved native rocks. So much so that as a child if we passed a rock house I would remark that it must be a PaPa Hardy house.

My grandfather has only been hospitalized twice. The first time was several years ago for a detached retina. The other time is right now, for vascular dementia and a stroke. I went to visit him tonight. I wish I had had a magic shirt.