Dad didn’t like it.
“Emily, enough is enough,” he said.
I’d laugh.
“Dad, he’s Grandpa.”
“I know perfectly well who he is. Be careful with him.”
That phrase has always bothered me.
Be careful with him?
Years, he was kind, calm and probably the least intimidating
person I knew.
Each time
that asked Dad what he meant, he refused to explain it.
“He’s getting older. That’s it.”
But sometimes his expression suggested that it wasn’t just that.
Grandpa noticed, too.
One Thanksgiving, Dad saw me sitting on the arm of Grandpa’s chair with his legs partially on his lap.
“Emily. Move.”
Grandpa looked away immediately.
I got up angry.
Later, I confronted Dad in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with you?”
His response left me stunned.
“Someday you will understand why I keep telling you.”
