Andy

    “Are you sure you don’t want to step on the other foot, too?” Martha asked impatiently as her four year old looked up with a grin. It was hard to be mad in the face of his sunny smile.

     “You’re so funny, mommy.” His big blue eyes in the sunlight were stunning, and his perfect tiny white teeth shone back at her with only a slight remnant of the chocolate cone he had just finished on his face.

     “Let’s get a move on, bud…places to go and people to see!” She reached down to take his hand in hers as they crossed the street, rustling around in her purse for a tissue to wipe his face with. Andy waved at others as they crossed toward them, and said hello in his warmest voice as they passed each one. Several people smiled back at him, others rushed by without so much as a nod. They reached the other side and the bench for the bus stop. Martha pulled Andy onto her lap. The elderly lady looked up from her terribly crouched position to offer Andy a toothy smile of her own.

     “Hello, there!” She turned her head slightly so she could see his face better. He smiled at her without reservation and put his hand out to touch her brightly colored cane.

     “I like your cane,” he said. “It has so many colors.”

     “I painted it myself, several years ago.” She patted the cane with a spotted, wrinkled hand. “I used to be an artist, you know.”

     “I’m an artist, too.” Andy’s face looked intense with concentration. “What’s several?”

“Oh, that means more years than I can keep track of with this old brain.” Her hand flew to her graying head and tapped it. “So tell me, little one…what kind of art do you like to do?”

His grin stretched from ear to ear. He wrested his hand free from his mom’s grasp so he could use both hands. He just couldn’t talk properly without using his hands. “Let’s see…I like to color with crayons, and make statues with clay, and color on my wall with paints or markers. But mom says I shouldn’t do that because then she has to pay to fix it. It doesn’t need to be fixed…I make good pictures!”  He made a slightly reproachful face at his mom, as the old lady giggled toward her lap, but continued on. “I really like gluing things to paper, too.

Matthew

                The little boy had red hair, of which he was very proud. Grandpa had red hair, before it had turned gray, his momma said. Of course, the little boy hadn’t believed her at first. As long as he could remember, grandpa’s hair had always been gray. But Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle Charlie had all promised that it was true, and now he believed it. Besides, it made his heart glad to know he was like his Grandpa. Grandpa had been a brave soldier, and he had built his house with his own two hands.

                He also made wonderful things out of wood. “I’ve been carving wood since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,“ Grandpa always said, which always made Matthew laugh. Imagine being that small! He had even begun to show Matthew how to carve, too. He would take a block of wood and turn it into a fox or a tree or a little girl, just like that. They were magic, the things that he made, and as he carved, he always told stories that little Matthew loved.

                Right now, Matthew’s red hair was covered with a blue hat. He had on his jacket and some gloves, and in his hands he held a carefully wrapped box. Momma carried Matthew’s little sister, and Daddy carried a few things in a box to give to Grandpa from his house. His big brown eyes stared at the large building, feeling weird about Grandpa living there now instead of in his own house. This was his first visit to Grandpa there since Grandpa had moved. Momma said Grandpa, who was 84 years old now,  was not getting on too well now, and there were lots of things wrong with him, too many things for it to be safe living alone since Grandma had died. Matthew’s house was really little and there was no place for Grandpa to live with them, even though Matthew really wanted him to. They only had two rooms, and Matthew and his sister shared a room, and Momma was going to have another baby soon.

                They walked into a big room, filled with couches and chairs. Most of the chairs held old women with gray hair, covered with blankets, who seemed very interested in looking at him and his sister. He couldn’t blame them…whatever they were watching on TV seemed really boring. One man walked up to Matthew and said something that was hard to understand, then walked over to the Christmas tree and began to examine the lights. Matthew went over to the tree and looked at the lights, too. Then the old man bent down and looked at the bottom of the tree. Matthew squatted down, too, and looked under the tree. The old man looked at him and smiled and touched his hair, but a moment later, he stood slowly, looking confused and wandered off.

                “Matthew!” Momma called. “This way, son.”

                He stood and followed them down the hall.  He was feeling a little worried. Would Grandpa be mad that he hadn’t come sooner? He stood behind his dad as they went into Grandpa’s apartment, just in case. He peeked out from behind his dad and saw Grandpa standing up. He smiled vaguely at them, and said in his deep voice, “Why hello! Visitors! How nice!” Momma went up and kissed him on the cheek, and Matthew could see that Grandpa was happy about that. Then, Matthew couldn’t wait any longer, and he ran up to Grandpa, wrapping his arms around his legs and smiling up at him. Grandpa’s eyes met his, and he carefully sat down in his old chair. “Why, aren’t you the cutest little boy I ever saw,” Grandpa said. “You look like a little boy I once knew.”

                “Grandpa!” Matthew cried out with a grin. “It’s me, Matthew!!”  Then he kissed him on his cheek. He handed him his present. “Here’s a Christmas present for you, Grandpa.”