My grandfather makes me both happy and sad-as most of my favourite people often do.
He’s bothered by the fact that botony is not in the elementary school curriculum. He’s saddened by the empty beer bottles left behind at local parks. Turkish coffee makes him happy-but only if it’s sweet. He speaks of Paris often.
He surprised me today by gifting me a camera he bought as a student 60 years ago. He stood before me, eyes crinkled, a little slouched, with the thing in his hands. I couldn’t be happy though, not fully, because as he held it, his hands shook. They shook like my future and it all just made me terribly sad.
I just want to remember him for liking his coffee very sweet.