Monday, August 31, 2009

I miss...

...the sound of my grandfather's feet shuffling, in the middle of the night. As he moved from one door, to the other, and back again, as we slept. Locking the door. Unlocking the door. Fumbling to slide each lock open, then sliding them closed again with a click. Over and over, all night long. Never certain of our safety, no matter how many times he did it.

But I was always reassured by the sound of him doing it. The sound of his being there...the sound of his obsessions, keeping us safe, but holding him hostage.


  1. I just had a flashback to my own grandfather (mom's dad) making sure that the oven was off each time he left the house. He went to the stove, checked all four knobs, checked them again, opened the oven door, closed the oven door and checked the knobs again.

  2. Hey it's good to know they care about safety, right? ;)