Note: Gregarious is one of my all-time favorite words. I wish I could use it, without having to stop and give the definition.
Meeting Little Man
I was so excited; the day had finally arrived. Grandma and I picked out my favorite dress. The blue pinafore with white rickrack that edged the hem, the neckline and around the two pockets on the front of the skirt. On each pocket was an embroidered strawberry. Those strawberries were beautiful, and I loved how they felt when I petted them with my hand. A white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, white knee socks and my black paten Sunday shoes made me feel extra special.
I held Grandma’s hand as we went down the steep stairs. Grandpa let out a long whistle and declared that I was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“You ready?” he asked.
I let go of Grandma’s hand, jumped down the last two steps and ran to stand in front of him.
“Ready,” I nodded once.
“See ya later Hon,” Grandpa called over his shoulder and we headed out the door, down the driveway and turned left on the sidewalk. I knew this way took us into town.
I tried not to skip and run ahead of Grandpa, but I was excited so it was hard to walk quietly next to him. As we walked neighbors waved and called out to us to say “Howdy” and ask if we were on our way to meet the Little Man. Grandpa greeted each of them in turn, saying “Afternoon Mable” and “Yes, yes we are”. As we got closer to town, Grandpa stopped to shake hands with everyone we met and answer the same questions over and over. He never got tired of answering, he just smiled as if it was the first time today anyone had asked the question.
I was not as good as Grandpa. When he seemed to be taking too much time, I grabbed on to his shirt sleeve and gave it a tug.
“Oh, oh. Looks like someone’s in a hurry. Best not keep her waiting,” he would say.
“Oh no, Little Man will be expecting you. Best be on your way.” And off we would go once again.
After what seemed like forever we came to a three-story white building.
“Is this it?” I asked. “Is the Little Man here?”
Grandpa chuckled and said this was indeed the place. We hurried inside, up a flight of stairs, and down a hall to stand in front of a big glass window. I grabbed hold of the window sill, jumping and trying to pull myself high enough to see into the window. I was too short to see much. I heard Grandpa’s familiar chuckle behind me.
“Hold your horses. Let me help.”
Grandpa lifted me up on his hip and I gazed at the two rows of little beds behind the window. Each bed held a little bundle wrapped in either a pink or a blue blanket.
“Which one is he?” I asked.
“That’s him. Front and center,” Grandpa said as he pushed his finger up against the glass. He pointed to a little blue bundle that wiggled and squirmed, and I could just make out a tiny pink face. A woman, dressed all in white scurried over and picked up the bundle before stepping closer to the window. I could now see blue eyes in the tiny face staring right back at us, and a mouth opened in a “O” shape. As she moved closer to the window the blanket moved and a perfectly formed little hand popped out reaching for the window.
“Grandpa! He’s just like you.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you see? Little Man wants to shake your hand.”
“Why, so he does,” Grandpa chuckled. “So, he does. I recon he’s pretty happy to see you too.”
I look at Little Man and reached out to touch the glass, his waving hand just inches away.
“I think I’m gonna like him.”
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer