\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2000539-The-Porch
Item Icon
Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #2000539
A girl spends an afternoon with the grandfathers she never met










The Porch


The Porch








         Has anyone ever asked you: if there is anyone you would like to meet, dead or alive, who would it be? I have heard this question several times and, for me, it was always the same people. The more I hoped for it, the more I truly believed that it would happen and one day, it did.

         It was a morning like every other. I woke up in my burgundy colored room that had posters thumb tacked all over the walls and the sun was spilling into the blind-less window. I dug out my iPod from underneath my pillow to check the time: 10:00AM. Just last night, I remembered, I made a wish at 11:11PM while staring at the gorgeous full moon. I was told never to reveal my wish and I didn't...not until now.

         I walk down the stairs and see mom sitting on the sofa, drinking her coffee and the dog sleeping next to her. After saying good morning to the two of them, I walk into the kitchen to get my breakfast, only to see two people standing on our back porch. I call out to mom but she didn't hear me, so I investigate for myself.

         Peering through the open blind on the door, I see a pale-skinned man wearing a white t-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and his socks up to his calf. Next to him, is a man the color of coffee with milk in it, who is dressed in a white shirt with a collar, a pair of beige shorts and no shoes or socks on. From behind, he could pass for my father, except his hair is jet black and he isn't as tall.

         I open the white door, the blind making a a quiet thud as it hits the door and then I open the white screen door, which creaks, making both of the men turn around.

         My stomach tightens and my heartbeat quickens as I see the faces of the two men staring back at me. The white man with the white hair has tired blue eyes and a small nose. His lips are pink and narrow and his facial features are soft. He has a few freckles on his face that seem to have come from old age.

         His white shirt is the same as I remember it from one of the few memories that revolve in my head from time to time and I reach out to touch him but I stop midway. This could just as easily be a dream and if it is, I decide that I do not want to wake up.

         The man next to him seems to be a carbon copy of my father. I can now see that the white shirt he has on is button down and that on his medium sized nose rests a pair of round glasses. I feel myself get light headed and place a hand to my head but as quick as it came, it went away.

         I smile at the two men unable to do anything else. And as if they can understand something that I don't, the two men look at each other and nod. "I am your grandfather, Charlie," says the pale man with the blue eyes.

         "And I am your grandfather, James," says the coffee-colored man with the round glasses.

         My mouth is agape and although there are a million words running through my head: phrases, questions, sentences, declarations, I cannot find a single word to speak aloud.

         "Are you okay?" Grandpa Charlie asks and I nod my head, then shake my head, then nod my head again and he laughs. "Look at how big you've grown!" He exclaims. But all I can think is that I have only grown a foot since third grade, if that, and I am hardly big. I only stand at four foot six.

         "You take after your grandmother's side." Grandpa James chimes in, referring to grandma Sumintra's side of the family. "Petite."

         I want to smile at them, I really do, but I have never been so confused in my life. "I know it has been a while since we've been gone." Grandpa Charlie begins.

         "But we have come here per your request...or should I say: your wish?" Grandpa James asks.

         "I don't understand." I finally croak out and then suddenly I remember everything.

         "Happy Birthday." They both say at the same time. Yes I remember now. Mom woke me up at 7am right after dad did at 6am to say the same exact words. I didn't have class today so I didn't have to get up early.

         "Thank you." I say, finally able to process the scene.

         "How old are you now?" Grandpa James asks.

         "Twenty-one." I say. "Doesn't even feel like it."

         "It's been sixteen years already?" Grandpa Charles asks. "It hardly seems that long."

         I nod, tears welling up in my eyes now. "But we get by as best as we can." I say to him. We talk about you, both of you, a lot."

         "Good things, I hope." Grandpa James says so low, I barely hear him.

         I nod, though, swallowing my tears. "Dad talks highly of you." I tell him. "I asked him one night how you were with kids."

         "And what did he say?"

         "Yes." He said. " 'Oh yes, with 9 kids.' "

         The tears begin to flow now and I don't know which one to hug first, but it is grandpa James that I go to. The man that my brother was named after. The one that I never was able to hug.

         The hug seems to last forever, as I cry with the realization that knowing him could've made my life different. With the realization that I was finally meeting the man that I never thought I would meet.

         I pull away slightly and wipe my tears. Grandpa James takes a handkerchief out of his right breast pocket and hands it to me.

         "What are you going to college for?" Grandpa Charlie asks me.

         "Teaching." I tell him. "Birth to grade two."

         "Teaching?" Grandpa James asks. "Like your father."

         I nod. "Yes."

         "How is he?" Grandpa James asks. I know the reason for his question but I don't want to go that far.

         "He is good." I answer. I tell him about dad and fill him in on the years that he hasn't been here. Grandpa Charlie fills him in as well, letting Grandpa James know that Dad took him in and treated him like a father.

         Grandpa Charlie asks about mom, grandma and my uncle and aunt and that's when the tears begin to flow again. I let him know that every year on his birthday grandma lights a candle for him. I tell him that grandma speaks of him often and how she always feels that she can feel his presence in the room. I continue to let him know that even on his anniversary she lights a candle and recites a prayer for him. It is without fail that we remember him every day. I tell him how mom has helped me so much with my school work and how mom stopped to work to take care of me because grandma was getting to old to do it. I tell him how one day I plan to write a story, one dedicated to the army men.

         "You write?" They both ask me at the same time and I nod in response. I tell them each to wait a moment while I go back inside and take out the typed version of my first draft for my book.

         I can see it on their faces how astonished they are that I have pulled off something so big. I, myself, am not aware that this is my own work.

         After talking about my work, Grandpa Charlie asks about my brother and sister, to which I reply that each has a child and inform Grandpa James that the youngest was named for him, since my brother was named for him.

         We talk more about the kids and I show them pictures of them and how similar we all look. They cannot get over how fast time has flown by and in all honestly, neither can I.

         After showing pictures of the little ones, I also start to talk more of my siblings and show pictures of them, too. I take both of my Grandfathers down memory lane with me as I explain the lives that we needed to live, even after they were gone.

         "I wish I could have known all of you more." Grandpa Charlie said.

         "I wish I could have known you all." Grandpa James said

         While the two of them seemingly say the same thing, I understand the difference.

         You see Grandpa Charlie passed away May 9, 1998 and Grandpa James passed away in 1980.

         Has anyone ever asked you: if there is anyone you would like to meet, dead or alive, who would it be? I have heard this question several times and, for me, it was always the same people: my Grandfathers James and Charlie. The two grandparents, I didn't get the time I should have with.















© Copyright 2014 Aimee Shaye (aimeeshaye08 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2000539-The-Porch