A Moment That Stays

A Moment That Stays

The parking lot of the Lund’s is grey

And the sky is grey too

Blanketed with thick woolen clouds.

I sit patiently in the back seat of the burgundy Buick

My stick legs folded underneath me

With my face poking between the driver and passenger seat.

The leather is cool on my face.

My grandfather sits in the driver’s seat

He smells musty, a deep warm scent that is comfortingly familiar.

The skin on his long face sags, his five o’clock shadow is white

Like fine salt sprinkled on his jaw.

We listen to the murmur of the engine

And the rhythmic thwip, thwap, thwip, thwap of the windshield wipers

As the rain pricks the glass and roof of the car

Tik, tik, tik, tik, tik.

We watch the entrance to the store vigilantly

Like a pair of hunting dogs

Waiting for my mother and grandmother to return,

Weighed down by bursting brown bags of food.

Grandpa tells me about his days in college,

A concept still so foreign to me

At only five years old.

He sings a part of his old school song in a low, raspy voice.

We are poor little lambs who have lost our way

Ba, ba, ba.

Tik, tik, tik.

Thwip, thwap, thwip.

This moment always stays with me.

I’m not always sure why.