I was having a leisurely morning and making raspberry pancakes when I took a peek at my phone. I had missed a text message from my mother. She said my grandpa had fallen and hit his head and had to get 16 staples. I was immediately annoyed with her for giving me the news in such a way, but I hurried up and called my grandpa.
He'd recently made the decision that he was going to have to quit the part time job that he really enjoyed because he couldn't keep up anymore--it was wearing him out too much. His health has been declining, in general. I feel guilty that I haven't been home in almost exactly 15 months--the longest I've ever gone without visiting Bridgeport. I also felt guilty because I had gotten upset with him recently. Nothing dramatic; I just told him that my feelings were hurt that he'd never called me when I was in the hospital.
Anyway, he's at home resting and doing okay. He had fallen on the cement steps in front of his house, and he was really embarrassed about it. "Just an awkward old man," he mutter disgustedly. A boy that I used to play with when I was little now owns the house across the street and had seen him fall and called the ambulance ("the emergency car" as my family always referred to it). I am worried about him.
I called my mom after he and I hung up the phone and all she wanted to talk about was how she was at the bar getting ready to watch the Nascar race and wanting to know what I had done last night. When I mentioned my papaw (no comments, please) all she said was, "I told him he needed to put a railing on those steps just yesterday morning. Did I have ESP, or what?"