He wears a cold one in his hand,
His blue eyes buzz intense.
A long cool sip and frothy lip,
He holds us in suspense.
"I was watching the kids one day,
Keeping track of all ten.
Jimmy was only four years old -"
I don't mind hearing this one again.
I watch him as he tells his tale;
Is he really eighty-two?
So alive, determined and fierce,
An old tale told anew.
"I couldn't find him anywhere--
I thought I'd lost a child..."
His face still reflects the fear he felt,
His imagination still runs wild with "What If?"
"I got home, heard Jimmy was missing and--"
Grandma starts to tell me.
Papa gives her the Irish eye,
"Eh! You wanna tell the story?"
He crosses his arms over his chest
And leans back in his chair.
Grandma presses her lips and smiles,
Ignoring his reproachful glare.
"Anyway, we finally found Jimmy."
This is my favorite part--
"He was sound asleep on the toilet! Ha!"
He claps his hand to his heart.
He reaches for his sweaty mug,
Which indicates he's done.
He gulps it down, sets it aside,
And begins another one.
We'll always remember our Storyteller and the Wise Woman who knew to just press her lips and smile.