With the blue sky and clouds rapidly moving as its backdrop, we were always mesmerized how the building looked like it was about to fall over. Marble walls that echoed our anticipation and floors that reflected every step we took led us to the elevator, where we would argue who would get to press button number 12, taking us to see our Grandfather. All three of us would bend our knees when we arrived at the twelfth floor, feeling that sensation when the elevator stopped and it would feel like we were flying.
He was always there, waiting to welcome us with open arms. That familiar and inviting smell acted like a tight and comforting embrace; warm and expectant. The memorable sound of the antique radio on his counter attentively followed us around as we searched for the treats that never failed to be found. Large glass containers organized by size lined his table that held Jujubes, Werthers Originals, packs of gum, Ruffles chips and peanuts. The table had a white tablecloth, finalized with a plastic cover making it ready for our usual ultra-dose of sugar. He also had a constant supply of canned ham and white bread; Mom and Candace always used to make everyone sandwiches for lunch. We didn’t get white bread or junk food at home. I think it gave him a level of satisfaction, knowing he could feed us sugar, get us bouncing off the walls, and then my parents were the ones who would have to deal with it! Before we left, he would always get my mom to add new junk food to the grocery list on his fridge to ensure the cupboards were stocked for our next visit.
Every time we sat down in his identical pink armchairs in the den, he would hobble in and turn on the TV for us because he didn’t think we knew how; even though we told him otherwise every visit. He would point out what each remote was for, and show us where the volume was. We laughed about how cute he was when he left the room.
Although the environment didn’t change between visits, there was always something new to admire. On the island in the kitchen, there was a bowl that held a better selection of eye glasses then Vogue Optical, with extra pairs in every room. We would try each pair on and pretend that they improved our vision, even though they were so strong we got instant headaches. We were always captivated by the mini 3-D telephone magnet on his fridge; whenever it was pushed it rang like a phone from the 60’s. An abundance of photographs covered every surface and the walls were lined with old pictures of my mom and her brothers and sisters. When I was really little, I used to study the black and white pictures and wonder if everything in those day was actually black and white and how weird of a world that would have been.
But the item of constant admiration was one lone photograph, framed in an elaborate but simple gold design. It sat permanently on a table beside the living room couch. The picture was of my grandmother, and there was never a time when there wasn’t a fresh red rose beside it. The long-stemmed rose swam in a glass vase that was decorated with a little pink porcelain rose. It’s the very same vase I have on the table beside my couch in my living room.
When it came time for us to leave, we all said goodbye in unison, got in a line, and took turns giving him a hug while sneaking an extra handful of candy for the ride home. I miss him every day, but I’m glad I do. Because that means the memories I have are irreplaceable.
