Your grandmother is in town. This is her first time ever traveling anywhere without your grandfather, so she’s very proud of herself. She should be. This is a big step for her and one I hope she makes more often. I have no doubts she will, because we are now basking in riches and can afford not one, but TWO whole couches to sleep on in our apartment. Plus, she has a grandson to dote on.
The other night, we were all sitting around, talking and feeling you mash your foot into your mother’s ribs. You’re getting so big now, Blue, that we can practically see footprints in your mother’s navel when you kick hard.
Suddenly, your grandmother begins waving her hands back and forth. “Arthritis,” she tells me, holding up her fingers to the light. “Just you wait, Michael. It will happen to you, too.”
I ask her, “Which fingers? I can’t tell.”
She holds up two fingers, one on each hand, and says with a grin, “Right there. You see?”
Then she cackles heartily. Arthritis or not, your grandmother has just flipped me the bird. Twice.
And she’s still very proud of herself.