"Lindsey! Have you taken my crossword puzzle?" My grandmother yells at me a few feet a way as if I can't hear her.
"Uhh, no... I don't use regular pencils. I'm a mechanical pencil kind of person." I defend myself.
"Where did you say you put it?" She squints at me trying to figure out what I really said.
Frustratedly I repeat, "I told you I don't use regular pencils."
"What?!?"
"I. DO. NOT. USE. REGULAR. PENCILS."
"So you don't have my pencil?"
Her handicap makes me feel ashamed of yelling. "No, I do not."
She begins cleaning the counter in search of her pencil. I see her go sit down without success in finding it. "Could you please go look for me honey? I'm tired and would like to rest my old legs." I nod and walk off as she opens the weekend paper.
Minutes later, I return to break the bad news I was unsuccessful in finding her favored writing utensil.
"I'm sorry I couldn't find it."
"Find what? I don't need anything. I'm just doing my crossword with that pencil you gave me for Christmas. You could help me out if you'd like. Here, four down is: "A Western Lake." It's five letters." She looks at me in all seriousness.
Instead of laughing and criticizing her for now having her pencil which she just asked me if I had and not telling me before I looked everywhere, I say, "try Tahoe."
Nice slice-of-life piece. I can sympathize with your grandmother because I put stuff down and tell myself not to forget where I put it (reading glasses, for example), and then five minutes later, it's not only that I can't find my glasses, it's worse: I wander around asking myself what it was I started out looking for two minutes before.
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