Older Than Dirt

Older Than Dirt

         I love my grandkids. Of course I do, that’s what grandpas do. But, I also know that there is an evil streak running through their little souls. Perhaps it is simply the unabashed innocence of youth, but they have a way of pointing out that grandpa’s an old coot while looking like little angels.

         My granddaughter, who is ten, is fascinated with age. She is at that point in life where her point of reference regarding age is totally confused. Intuitively she realizes she is refreshingly young. Anyone older than her is old. Some folks are just old and some folks are really old. I’m not sure where I fall into that timeline of hers, but it is probably close to the really old group.

         For some reason Lauren loves to play the age game.

         “Grandpa, how old are you?”

         Now, I told you she was a wicked urchin, because she very well knows how old I am. But I play the game.

         “Lauren, I’m twenty-four.”

         “Ught-nuh, you can’t be twenty-four. How old are you really?”

         “OK, how old do you think I am?” I smile at my little angel.

         “Oh, about a hundred.” She gives me a wicked little grin.

         “No way! I’m thirty-eight years old. I’m two years older than your dad. I was a very young father.”

         She rolls her eyes as she pulls the ace card, “Grandma, how old is grandpa?”

         Remind me to get a new Grandma; this one has no loyalty whatsoever to this union of ours, as she spouts, “Grandpa’s fifty-seven.” –traitor.

         “Geez, Grandpa, you’re older than dirt!” She squeals with giggles that melt my heart.

         I get to hug her now for I’ve paid the price. I hope she will always be ten-years-old. But I know she will not. Someday, she will be older and will have a life of her own. There will be a husband, kids, and a home. Her Grandpa will be older then—much closer to the age of dirt. But I look forward to that day—the day when Lauren gets married. In fact, I have a secret desire to conduct her wedding, just like I did her mom and dad’s.

         To firmly set this idea in her mind I’ve asked her casually, “Lauren, when you get married, do you want Grandpa to do the ceremony?”

         She looked at me with innocent and loving eyes, that melt my heart, and said, “Sure, if you’re not dead.”

         I love her dearly, but I tell you there’s an evil streak in there. So, I’ve determined to hang in there until she outgrows it. However, when she does, I’m afraid I will miss our little game.

Word count = 465