When I answered the phone Sunday night, a little voice said, “Hi, Grandma.”
“Well, hi, John,” I said. My grandson is not a kid who likes to talk on the phone, so this was a surprise. Then he hit me with the reason for his call. With a bit of impatience, he got right to the point.
“When are you coming?”
I guess he was tired of waiting for us to return to Texas. The last time we’d had a similar discussion (“When are you coming back???”), as I rode next to him in the back of the minivan in Austin in December, my answer had been “80 days”.
“Eight days,” I informed him this time.
“Eight days,” he repeated, sounding a little glum. I guess it seemed like a long way away. Then he recovered a bit and wanted to know if we would be going to the Magnolia Cafe for blueberry pancakes (which we have done during every single visit to Austin). And could we go see some ‘live music’?
“Absolutely.” An easy promise to make, because we always take him to see ‘live music’ somewhere. He loves to study the bands, watch the drummers, listen to the way the songs come together…and then he has opinions and critiques. Much like his father. And, to be honest, his grandmother. Grandpa Banjo Man, on the other hand, pretty much enjoys everything unless it is too loud (and then watch out!).
I have been packing my suitcase ever since. Four days to go, John!