…and cross your T’s.

 
When I asked about it, Grandpa used to tell me crazy Things (all true!) about how he lost his left eye.

  • Shark Took It @ Sea
  • Moths Ate It
  • Bird Attack
  • Wayward Fireball

My favourite: “Grandpa cried too much.  Grandpa lost it because I cried and cried and didn’t stop.  Ehhh?”

He never had a glass eye, or anything, Grandpa.  No rakish or stoic eye-patch.  Just the flap and a slight depression where the eye used to be, the combined effect not totally unlike the skin that forms on the surface of cooled soup.

Urges for all else be damned.

STOIC.

But there was no soup in there.

He wore black-rimmed glasses, Grandpa did, even though OK what other situation would be as good for a monocle?  Then again, maybe he just didn’t want to worry the point.

Could be.

Actually, you know, it never occurred to me to ask him how he felt about it – like, about having just the one eye.

But I liked that it gave us something to talk about.

1 Comment

Filed under Family

One response to “…and cross your T’s.

  1. Pingback: Time, And Time Again | besidealife

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