When Are You coming to my House?

 

                                                             My grandson’s game face.




So this is how it happens.


Yesterday afternoon , around 5:30 pm in the bread aisle of HEB, my phone rings.

And no it wasn’t 5:30 or 6:00 am when I usually grocery shop,  as discussed  here.



It was that grocery shopping time of day when nothing good is going to happen.

The wrong combination of people are usually at the grocery store that time of day.



So the phone rings, I answer, and the voice of my youngest grandson says-



“Madu, when are you coming to my house?”


At this point it is as if I am a special agent being called on assignment with the sound of some code phrase.

The grocery store noise falls away.


There is no question. There is no planning for a seven hour drive.  There is nothing else.

There is just that voice.


”Tomorrow,” I say.