Each morning I sit with freshly brewed coffee, a blanket piled on my lap, then Metro and the remote TV controller. Georgia has her snout propped on my ankles and I stare at DIY shows. Kitchens shiny with stainless, granite, toilets with warm seats that automatically lift, yards transformed in a day to take us to Bali or Arizona, if you prefer. I sit passively as they dig, hammer, drag and construct. Waking up, getting ready for work. Sometimes I sit that way for an hour. Refilling my coffee, Metro rolls to one side, still asleep, and Georgia pads into the kitchen with me and returns nose snapped to my thigh. Metro and I resettle, Georgia hops up and I look for this particular day to unfold. Grandpa sleeps through it all. Today I told him this hour used to be my favorite part of each day. It started when Mia was ill. After she died, I needed comforting for a long while, and without her warming my lap, at the start of each day, Metro filled in. But, I told Grandpa today, this isn’t my favorite thing anymore. It’s when you’d join us. Grandpa, told me that he didn’t ever see this happen. He was sleeping.
I’d hear a click of the guest bedroom door and you’d dash out, running at full speed pounding along the carpeted hall. “I up!” you’d exclaim. And clamor up my legs into the blanket, fur, claws and wet noses to join us. I pull the covers up, roll Metro to the side, hold each of your small feet in my hands to warm them (warm me) gather up your legs and inhale the scent of your hair, cheek and neck. This is my favorite, most delicious and wonderful time. I long for it. Grandpa and I said this morning that we hope someone in your little trailer home enjoys this moment with you each morning. Grandpa went back into the bedroom, came out running and called, “I up.” He makes us happy, too. Doesn’t he? gma