Abi

August 21, 2019

In just a few days, granddaughter #2 will head back to college for her sophomore year. Tonight, I took her out to dinner as a going-away gift to myself. We tried two different Fredonia restaurants before finding one that was open. The first only opens Thursday through Saturday, the second closed at 7:00 pm, and since she didn’t get off work till 6:00, that didn’t work. What did work was restaurant #3, where we had a great meal and wonderful conversation at a small table by the window. Towards the end of our meal, she noticed a man sitting on the sidewalk across the street, decided he looked homeless, and that she would give him the two remaining chicken fingers she had in a take home box. 

We crossed the road, she approached and offered him her meal. “What do I want that for?” he asked somewhat belligerently. “You eat some first!” When Abi remonstrated that she had already eaten, he grew increasingly agitated, insisting she eat some, and that he would have to pay her for it. He offered her a smoke, and when she declined, he responded with, “You think you’re better than me?” He returned to insisting she eat the meal she was offering him, then broke a twig with leaves off the bush next to him, stuffed it in his mouth, chewing and laughing maniacally. We finally walked away, with him laughing behind us as we crossed the street. We got in my truck, and by the time we had exited the parking lot, he was gone. 

A bluegrass group was performing in the park, so we stopped to listen to a few numbers before heading home. As we passed through Cassadaga, I asked if she was up for some ice cream, knowing full well that was an offer she wouldn’t refuse. After ordering, we sat in the gazebo and talked for almost an hour, about life, love, faith, relationships, and family. Listening to her heart was a rare pleasure, one few grandparents get to have. This girl who once wanted to build a house in her dad’s backyard is excited about going back to school. 

Before we had some work done on the stairway in the living room, we had photos on the stairwell wall, one of which was a collage of Linda and myself with Abi when she was between two and three years old. We are walking away from the photographer holding Abi’s hands as she swings between us, feet high in the air. I remember that day, and wondering what she would be like when grown up. Tonight, I know. Before dropping her off at her home, I asked what she would like me to pray for as she went back to college. She told me, then asked how she could pray for me. “Why don’t we pray now?” she asked. So we did. We held hands as we prayed for each other before she gave me a big hug and her customary, “Love you,” before hopping out of the truck. I don’t know how any grandfather could be more blessed or thankful than I am tonight as I watched and listened to this beautiful young woman open her heart to this old man.