Why An Afternoon With Your Grandpa Is Always Worth It

Sitting across from me at the Hayward Family Restaurant was an empty chair with a menu in front of it. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if he had snuck in through the back. The people around me were starting to grow suspicious of my constant scanning of the diner.

“Would you like me to take your order, dear?” the waitress asked.

“He should be here any minute. Check back in another five minutes, please.” I gave her a halfhearted smile. We had talked on the phone last night and he told me to meet him here. I pulled out my phone and checked my messages and Facebook for what seemed like the hundredth time. My chocolate milk was starting to get warm.

A car door slammed and I peaked through the window to see if it was him. With silver hairs flowing out of his camouflage ball cap, three layers of shirts on in 60 degree weather, and a pack of Marlboro Reds peaking out of his front shirt pocket; it was Grandpa Bob alright.

“What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked Grandpa.

“Got any liquor?” he chuckled.

“Not this early in the morning,” she said.

“Well, I’ll take a coffee then,” he replied.

Grandpa flipped through the menu and then reached for his glasses. As much as he didn’t like to use them, he figured it would save him some trouble if he just put the darn things on.

“Do you know what a pig in a blanket is?” he asked.

“Yes Grandpa, it’s when you take a hot dog and put it in a-.” He then cut me off.

“No, no. Not the actual thing.”

“What do you mean then?” I gave him a puzzled look.