At work, I told the kids that today was special because it was my Grandpa John’s birthday. When they asked how old he was, I replied “92.”
One child said, “Ohhh that’s a lot of birthdays.”
Another asked, “How?”
Most just kind of looked at me because at the age of 2 or 3, the number 92 is a bit out of their realm of understanding.
Even at 22, I found myself slightly baffled looking at my grandpa tonight. More so than that, I felt grateful to be able to sit next to him and visit with my aunt and uncle and eat a good Southern meal and watch my 92 year old grandpa blow out his candles.
Uncle Jon, “You drink almond milk and that’s why you’ve lived to 92.”
Uncle Jon, “Did you hear what Cheri said?”
Pop John, “Nope.”