...the funny faces he'd always make at me.
...how he'd try to playfully punch me in the stomach, or pinch my ear or just in general try to bug me whenever I was walking by him.
...honking his big brown nose and punching him in the stomach as payback for above.
...him asking me, "Do you want a soda, there's some outside in the fridge."
...the following conversation that happened sooo many times:
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I walk into his house from next door, see him sitting on his recliner watching TV.
"Ah Nicolas! Here, come here."
"Ya, what's up?"
"Do you like (insert snack-food name here)? Come and try one, they're very good!" (usually a sugar-less something another, or mixed nuts)
"No thanks grandpa, I'm full."
"I didn't ask if you were full, I asked if you wanted some (blank)!"
"Ok, okay. Mmmm, it's very good."
"See? If you want more the box is right here."
"Thanks grandpa."
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...or this frequent conversation:
Running into his house from my house:
"Hi Nick, come here and sit down"
"Can't Grandpa! My dad/Chris/My mom is using our bathroom and I need to use yours!"
"Okay, but that will be 50 cents."
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...how he called my brother "Chupili"
...hearing him sing along to mariachi songs.
...hearing him sing his own fake-Spanish version of Happy Birthday at family parties. "Abre Berday toooo you!" I thought that was the real Spanish way of singing it for such a long time...hehe.
...hearing him call my grandma "Hun" even if the "Hun" was preceded by a frustrated "Aye!"
...how when talking to me, he always mistakenly referred to my grandma as "your mother."
...the way he said my mom's name, not Gloria, but GlorRr-e-ah." Or calling her "Glorie."
...looking out the living room window, seeing his head poking out from above the hedge, and wondering why he was coming over and what he wanted.
...all the times he came over to ask if I wanted to get lunch. I wish I went a few more times. I just don't like Mexican food that much! "How can you not like Mexican food, you Portagee!" He used to tease.
...seeing him sitting there in the patio waving at us as we left or came home from somewhere. Even if it was annoying cause it felt like he was our warden.
...our drives up in the hills, or to Half Moon Bay, or Santa Cruz, or to anywhere really and how much he appreciated anytime we spent with him. How he'd talk about those trips for weeks after, god, I'm really going to miss that most of anything.
...telling him about how I'm doing in San Francisco and what I'm working on.
...his big toothy grin.
...seeing him walking around his garden or asking me if I'd seen whatever happened to be blooming yet.
...watching him play with my baby cousins, knowing they won't get know him as I was able to, but glad they got to know him at all.
...hearing all the stories he had inside of him that he loved to tell.
...his short but thoughtful Thanksgiving dinner blessings.
...showing him the Christmas lights I'd put up on his house.
...wishing him a Happy Veteran's Day and reminding him that Memorial Day wasn't his holiday. You get both now, grandpa.
...being greeted by a big hug and "Oh, Nicholas! I didn't know you were here! It's sooo good to see you. Here, sit down, do you want a soda?" whenever I walked into his house after being away for a bit.
...saying goodnight to him everytime I left Mountain View. ....hearing him tell me, before I left for Berkeley, then San Francisco, even when he was ill in bed.
"Well, if you need anything, just holler."
1 comment:
That was really beautiful.
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