I just started crying in the middle of Trader Joe’s. It wasn’t because they don’t have any breakfast cereal without sugar added to it (which is a legit reason, really), though I was reading ingredient labels when it happened.
I heard an old couple ** talking and the woman said, "Thanks, sweetheart." The man said, "You’re welcome, dear."
I was already homesick and already thinking of my grandmothers who are both widowed now and lonesome for their husbands. My grandmothers live near each other, and lately where they live it’s been icy and freezing cold. This spring, if my grandfathers were still alive, would have seen a sixtieth and seventieth wedding anniversary.
And, while I am happy for them, that couple just made me sad and homesick. I can still hear both my grandfathers’ voices; their laughs and the way each of them would whoop at football games on tv. How my Poppa called me "JennyFour." I miss them so much.
I heard on NPR this week that the man who wrote GoodNight Sweetheart passed away and the song has been stuck in my head on and off since. I was halfway to the van when I realized it was there again without me even noticing that it had started up.
**Old enough that when the cashier asked how her day was, the woman said it was good just because they’d woken up this morning.