To Live: The Story Of Grandpa Joseph's Life

2316 Words 10 Pages
To Live While they wait, she walks around the small living room again, lifting up the corners of the blinds and peeking out into the darkness. All the windows are closed, but she pushes down at each pane a little to be sure. She feels Timmy’s eyes on her back and she wants to scratch her neck with her torn nails. There aren’t many people around anyway. This was never a populous town, true, but now it’s practically empty. Mr. Wilson, a few houses down, left for bigger cities long ago with Timmy’s mother, soon after the only grocery store in the town closed. The sickly woman living in the house to their right hasn’t been out for nearly a month, and the stench of rot from that house has permeated the whole street. Grandpa Joseph, the old man …show more content…
Timmy has told her, on one of the many nights that he spent in her house, away from his drunk mother, that Grandpa Joseph is his second favorite person. Grandpa Joseph is old, and his body always helplessly trembles and jerks, no matter how hard he tries to keep still when they visit him. His door is never locked, and he often sits next to a window, waiting for something to happen in his life. Before the disaster, whenever Timmy came to her crying, she would take him to Grandpa Joseph’s house. They spent entire afternoons there, listening to his stories. “No,” she squeezes the words out, “We don’t have any meat to spare, Timmy.” He tilts his head, puzzled. “But Grandpa Joseph is very nice, and he gave us his food before,” he argues. Timmy is right. She remembers the affection and hope in Grandpa Joseph’s eyes when he watched them eat, his stubborn refusal whenever they offered him any. He is one of the kindest people she has known. He has given them everything, and still felt sorry that he couldn’t give them …show more content…
“Do you remember how he gave us his last cans of soup? I’m sure you remember. Grandpa Joseph is old and sick, and he knows that. That’s why he gave us his last bits of food, even though he could’ve eaten it instead. Do you see?” The beddings rustle. Perhaps Timmy shook his head. She keeps talking. “He wants us to eat more than he wants to eat. He wants us to live more than he wants to live himself. That’s why he won’t take the meat even if you give any to him.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Timmy curls into himself and worms a little away from

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