Grandpa

E. R. Pfund.  Grandpa’s driver’s license slipped out of the manila envelope onto the kitchen table.  I’d been rummaging through some old papers in a tote from the farmhouse that contained so many interesting things that had been saved. 

It was a driver’s license that expired on September 12, 1973.  Signed by E. R. Pfund. Grandpa never made it to that day - he passed away on March 9 of 1973, at the age of 76.  I was in 8th grade.

As the school bus pulled into the driveway of our little pickle chip green colored house on highway 37 on that day so many, many years ago, I quickly noticed both of my aunt’s cars parked in our driveway.  My stomach knotted up into a tight wad of fear.  I knew that Grandpa had been in the hospital.  

Once inside the house, my fear became reality.  Grandpa was gone.

I tilted my head down to look at the now ancient driver’s license as a tear puddled in the corner of my eye.  When I was younger, Grandpa had told me that one day I could be his chauffeur.  I could drive him around wherever he needed to go.  

That childhood dream never happened.

E. R. Pfund. I miss my grandpa. Let the tears puddle.