After a night at the gym I walked into my grandparents home and  saw my grandma in the kitchen and greeted her as always with a warm hello.  It was odd not to see my grandpa in the same place as I have everytime I walk in the house  (sitting in a chair three feet from the TV) Curiously, I asked my grandma where he was.

My grandma replied, “he had a little too much to drink….he is sleeping on a chair downstairs.” I asked her “why?.  She replied, “well Ben, while I was making dinner I asked if grandpa if would be so kind to make me a margarita. He did comply and then proceeded to drink the whole batch by himself- now he is passed out downstairs.”

 The funny thing is not even so much that he made something for her and then proceeded to drink it and finally passed out…. It’s the way my grandma explained it. Her tone of voice was equivalent to a response to a common question such as “where I can find a roll of paper towels in the house?”… there was no defeat in my grandma’s voice and she made it seem as though this has happened a million times before.

 My grandma had accepted the fact that she had a request that wasn’t fulfilled and now, after putting together dinner for three hours, he is sleeping. Patience is my grandma. My grandma is patience.