I
“Granddad, do you have your cane?”
“Oh, yes…well, let’s see. I put it around here somewhere.”
It’s stainless steel with a black handle, and Grandma insists it’s too short for him, but he refuses to change the height. Quinn sits next to me, panting with her tongue out, waiting patiently to go back outside.
Stepping outside makes me wish I brought my sunglasses. The air is warm against my skin, and I hear the faint bellow of lawnmowers nearby. I help Granddad as he struggles down the singular step from the front door.
We make our way toward our usual route, or at least I do, and Granddad follows.
“So, anything new?” Granddad asks.
“Not much since yesterday.”
“Ah, so you must be getting ready to return to school.”
It’s mid-June, “Oh well, I still have some time to procrastinate.”
Granddad laughs, “Oh, kids these days,” he teases, “You know…back in my day, we had to take the subway to school.”
“Oh really?”
“And being in Brooklyn and all that, we were either the first or last stop, depending on the time of day.” Granddad always talks wistfully about his past, “Sometimes smart asses would say ‘Oh, there are three conductors on this train,’ because we had to wear a uniform.”
Quinn is at my side walking slowly and pausing to keep up with Granddad’s pace, “That must have been annoying.”
“Yes, yes… did I tell you that we used to take the subway daily to school.”
“Wow, I never have to do that.”
“Oh, kids these days have it so easy,” he laughs.
“Well, it would be hard to take the subway, considering we don’t have one here.”
“I suppose I’ll give you that,” he chuckles, “When do you go back to school? It must be soon.”
“August 31st, so I still have a couple months which is nice.”
“When I was in high school, we had uniforms, and sometimes people would make snarky remarks like, ‘Why are there so many conductors on the train’…”
II
Stepping outside makes me wish I brought my sunglasses. The air is warm against my skin, and the faint bellow of lawnmowers roars nearby. Granddad struggles down the singular step from the front door.
We head toward our usual route, or at least I do, and Granddad follows.
“You know…back in my day, we had to take the subway to school,” Granddad always talks wistfully about his past.
“Oh really?”
“Sometimes smart asses would say ‘Oh, there are three conductors on this train,’ because we had to wear a uniform.” He laughs, reminiscing.
“Oh wow,” Quinn is at my side, patient to keep up with Granddad’s pace. There’s a brief pause before Grandad says:
“Did I ever tell you that we used to take the subway every day to school?”
III
It’s a sunny day in mid-June. Granddad has his cane in one hand: I hold Quinn’s leash.
“Did I tell you I used to take the subway to school?”
I never say that he has.
IV
“You know, back in my day…”