Nana has learnt to text. Often.
After receiving a few not-so-subtle requests for me to visit them, thinly masked in offers of pumpkin soup, I put on my granddaughter of the year hat and went to their apartment.
Poppa wasn't in the best shape. He felt nauseated and looked worn out. He didn't even enjoy his Jelly Tip!
Nana had just the trick to cheer him up though. She started reminiscing and surfacing fond memories of school days and how she used to admire him.
It is really strange how a memory can be so dear to one person, but not another. For example, Nana recalled a time when Poppa helped a lady and her child onto a bus. He folded the pram for her like a true gentleman and lifted the child onboard. Nana, watching on, was so impressed and admired him for it.
She still remembers it, and it was a very long time ago. By the way she told the story I knew it was so fond to her, but Poppa couldn't remember it at all.
It seems so insignificant, but to her it was important.
No comments:
Post a Comment