• • • • •
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen Grandma. I feel bad about it, but I didn’t forget about her, and that matters to me.
I take Tickles with me to see her. I think Tickles would prefer the company to being alone, and I’m sure my grandma would enjoy the dog.
One other thing I remember to bring is a certain picture given to me. It’s black and white, and I think it’s perfect for my grandma’s room, so I framed it. Not only is it a great shot of the both of us, but maybe she won’t forget herself, or me, as quickly?
As Tickles and I walk through the halls of the nursing home, we are stopped by 98 percent of the residents and staff. The only person who doesn’t stop us to pet Tickles or remark on his leg is an older guy in a wheelchair with his head leaning to the left and his mouth wide open, snoring.
We’re almost to my grandma’s room when I see Susan at the end of the hall. It has felt like months since I last saw her. And it makes me think of Seth all over again. When she sees me, she smiles and calls out my name. She walks toward me as she pushes an old lady in a wheelchair.
Her smile seems to grow bigger the closer she walks.
Mine does too.
“Charlie, how are you doing? And who’s this little guy?”
“I’m dog-watching for a few days. His name is Tickles.”
“I’d love to pet him, but I’m allergic to dogs, sadly.”
“Oh yeah. Seth said that. I should get him away from you.”
Susan smiles. “It’s good to see you. Seth is having fun in Seattle, but I think he misses you. At least that’s my impression.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I miss him too. “When does he get back?”
“Two weeks.”
That sounds like forever. I think my face shows my disappointment, because she says, “It’ll go by quickly. He’ll be back before you know it. Well, I better get Becky to her room. What’s the picture?”
“Seth took it. Isn’t it amazing?” I show it to her.
Susan smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes, and I wonder why. “You two are beautiful together.”
I walk to my grandma’s room wondering if Susan meant me and my grandma or me and Seth. And I wonder why I think that.
I knock on the doorframe to my grandma’s room and walk in. She is sitting in her regular old recliner, her hands fidgety, as usual. “Hello, Grandma.” She turns to me and smiles upon seeing the dog.
Tickles doesn’t run up to my grandma but instead holds back behind my legs. “His name is Tickles.” I turn behind me. “Tickles, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t seem to want to see Grandma. I finally have to pick him up, and as he shivers in my arms, I bring him to my grandma so that she can pet him.
She smiles, not noticing that the dog doesn’t really want to be petted.
After a few pets, Tickles yaps.
My grandma jumps. Her face looks frightened, and I can’t help but think of her reaction as that of a child who hasn’t acquired words to express herself yet. Except, unlike a child, my grandma has lived a lifetime.
I put Tickles down, and he runs behind my leg again. I go to the blinds and open them. “Why do they never open these?” I ask her.
I describe the sky (Smooth Sailing on a Glassy Sea) and set her clock to the right time.
I grab the picture I set on her bed and hold it up to her. “Look at this. It was taken by my best friend. You remember Seth? He went on that walk with us. Where should we put it?” I look around the room, and I see she’s staring intently at the picture. I point to her. “That’s you. Eloise Dickens.”
She is no longer smiling.
“And that’s me.” I point at myself in the picture. “Charlie. Your grandson. Remember me, Grandma?”