Someone grabbed my foot in the early morning hours, and I shot up, almost falling ass-over-teakettle off the couch. But, I immediately relaxed when I heard my grandma's voice saying, "Good morning, sleepy head!", and my dad cackling like a hyena as he stood behind her.
"Oh, you scared the shit out of me!" I hyperventilated, "Good morning, grandma. Glad to see ya!"
"Glad to see ya, too." she replied, "Now, get back to sleep. Lay down! Lay down!"
"No. I'm up, grandma." I sighed as my dad pushed her in her wheelchair towards the other sofa, "Can I get ya anything?"
"No, I'm not yet ready to eat." grandma answered, "I gotta watch my news first. You eat now!"
While Dad helped grandma get comfortable, I got up and ready for the day. It was still pitch dark outside, so I checked my phone for the time. It was just before six in the morning, but I was wide awake thanks to grandma Shirley.
In the carpeted bathroom, I got dressed and brushed as quickly as possible. For one, I felt like for every minute I spent in that bathroom, I was shaving years off my life by breathing in the musty air (carpeted bathrooms with drop tile ceilings are among the worst ideas someone has ever had). And, as much as I'm embarrassed to admit it, I was still pretty spooked. I was certain if I closed my eyes for too long while washing my face, I'd look up to see my reflection doing something I wasn't.
After getting cleaned up and ready, I headed for the kitchen to take my pills before a migraine set in. My dad was up, cooking eggs and bacon on the stove, listening to the rock station on the radio. He offered me some food, but I declined. I wasn't yet hungry, and chose to have a big glass of whole milk for breakfast instead. Dad tossed me a plate of strawberry jam toast, knowing I'd eat that, and tried to get me to eat an egg as well, but that I declined.
"No thanks, dad. I don't like eggs enough to eat one right now. The toast, however, is perfect!"
"Glad you like it." Dad nodded, taking a huge bite of his scrambled eggs.
By then, the sun had just peeked above the horizon, illuminating the country around us through the windows. It was a very cold morning. The house was only just beginning to warm up, since my dad took the space heaters out of grandma's room and set them up elsewhere, and the stove was on. I sat at the kitchen table wrapped up in my warmest clothes, watching the morning outside.
Soon, my uncle Wade showed up. He had left well before the ass-crack of dawn to haul a small load of corn from Lake City to Winona, but would be with us for the rest of the day. He trudged into the house and greeted us with a smile. However, he couldn't resist practically lifting me up out of my chair to give me another huge bear hug.
After breakfast, I helped to clean up the kitchen and do the dishes the old fashioned way (grandma was always against most modern technology, including dishwashers). While I did so, I read the poem grandma had hung up next to the sink:
"Thank God for dirty dishes,
They have a tale to tell.
While other folks go hungry,
We're eating very well."
