I swung open the door, holding it open with my hips as my fingers turned red from the heavy bags. I switched them all over to my left hand, and shifted my weight as an attempt to grab the door with my hand. Just as I grasped the handle Henry and Karen stormed in almost knocking me over. I knew they couldn't hold in their excitement. They hadn't seen their grandparents in a few years, it was hard for them to travel when they were so young. Not only was this the first time on a plane, but it was their first time in England at their grandparents house. Without seconds passing they began to holler.
"Grandpa, Grandma!"
"One second!" Grandpa's raspy voice hollered back from the basement.
"Where's grandma?" Henry was curious.
"She's at the salon" Grandpa explained as he got to the top of the stairs.
"When will she be back?" Karen asked. "She promised us cookies," she followed her statement with a grin.
"In a few hours"
"Awe" They both pouted.
"Hey, grandpa can be fun too" I defended him.
"I have amazing stories. I didn't live the regular life you know" Grandpa raised his eyebrows.
"Can you tell us about your craziest experience?" Henry asked eagerly.
"Before you get into too many stories, why don't you give me a goodbye hug?" I asked the kids and they came running over.
"Bye, love you"
"Miss you."
"I love you guys too, and will miss you very much."
"Okay, now tell us about your tattoos," Henry said wide-eyed.
"No, no, no," Karen interrupted as politely as she could, while pulling on Grandpa's pant leg lightly.
"Yes dear?" Grandpa answered while sitting down in his comfy chair, and the kids gathered around the floor.
I picked my purse up and made my way to the door, and just as I was about to leave I heard Karen ask, "Can you us about how you met grandma?"
Grandpa looked up at me. "Why, yes I can. It's definitely a story that's worth being told."
I made my way back into the living room and sat myself down on the floor, as if I was a kid again and he was my grandpa. Being late for a performance I had done a million times was nothing compared to this.
"Well where do I start," he sat back. "Oh yes. I was 9 years old and I was at my singing teachers house. I was warming up my singing voice. I was trying my best, but I was nervous. I tried to ignore the girl sitting on the steps watching me, but I couldn't. She was just so beautiful..."
I crossed my legs and prepared to be there for a while because after all these years I was finally going to hear the entire story of how my father met my mother, how Harry and Sarah fell in love.