It was 10:30 PM and past time to start getting Grandpa to bed. So I went into the living room where he sat slouched on the couch, studiously reading (or, more likely, psuedo-reading) the fine print in some magazine.
After an initial verbal exchange where I managed to get him to agree to having a bed-night snake of shredded wheat, he went on to a long discourse about people doing this and that, and things occurring like such and such all of which made no sense at all. Once he ran out of steam I said, “So, would you like me to get you that shredded wheat?”
“Actually,” he said. “I really need to go pee,” finally getting around to the real meaning of his previous convoluted speech.
We started down the hall, arm in arm, heading toward the bathroom. Halfway there Grandpa stopped, scratched his head, and said, “You know, I’ve learned more about cells this year than I’ve ever known before.”
No, we don’t have any science magazines lying around the living room for him to read–if he were even capable. So you can try to figure out that comment if you like. But it was given in the most sober sense of reflection, so whatever was behind his thought, he wasn’t joking.
Perhaps he was remembering a year many many years ago.
But then, perhaps he wasn’t really thinking about cells at all, just as his long convoluted conversation about things and people doing things was really an attempt to say he needed to go pee.
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