Grandpas Mind :: Dialogue Essays

Grandpas Mind As I pulled into my parents driveway, I realized how shoddy the radio was. I moody it down, peeled my legs off the blue vinyl group seat, and lugged my pile of laundry up to the front door. The doorknob wouldnt turn and I still hadnt gotten around to making myself a duplicate key. I rang the price and waited. Nothing. Leaving my basket of dirty clothes on the steps, I tramped by dint of the bushes in front of the living room window. Pep was across the room sitting in his usual chair and reading the paper. He was a familiar sight in his plaid flannel shirt, striped clip-on bow tie, and tweed cabby hat. I knocked on the window. He turned around, startled, and focused his eyes on me. I smiled and waved at him, only when he just stared at me. I gestured toward the front door. His face had that hollow look, but something made him get up and let me in. Hi, Pep. I kissed him on the cheek. He made way for me and my laundry. Hello, how are you ? I headed for the washing machine. Pep trailed nearly behind. Kevin and Clare arent home, but they should be here soon. Do you want to wait for them? Yah, Ill be here. I began separating whites from darks. Do you want anything to eat? Theres meat and bread in the ice box and some cookies in there. No thanks. I dont sack out where Kevin and Clare are. They took Katie out somewhere. Do you know Katie? I paused. Here we go. This was going to be one of those conversations. I should just say, Why, yes, I know Katie. But possibly if I venture a bit further, something might jog his computer storage and we wouldnt have to go through the whole routine. Dad says that Pep has a tape recorder in his brain, and bits and pieces keep getting erased. I immovable to give it a shot.