He stood there, arms folded and leaning over his left hip. That was his better one-- too much weight on the right and he’d practically fall over. His class ring from Notre Dame glistened as the sun came through the window and hit the different edges of the large topaz gem planted in the middle. That ring meant the world to him. Class of 1958 carved into one side, Notre Dame carved in the other, and his birth stone in the middle. That ring was the symbol of his pride and joy, and hadn’t left his finger the past 50 years.

The kitchen was silent. The tension was so strong it spilled across the room and down the hallway; it was as if you could feel it approaching as you opened the front door. The realization slipped through John’s head he most likely shouldn’t have yelled at Jenny. She hated that, ever since she was about three or four, and needless to say it hadn’t changed one bit. She looked down at the floor, hands folded next to her coffee mug. She looked like a porcelain doll, not moving an inch, not even with each breath she took. Only a minute or two passed, but to John it felt like eternity, and not knowing what to say or do he let out a long, quiet sigh. It was unclear, what he needed to do or say or how to act, lost in his own thoughts and drowning in guilt for hurting his daughter’s feelings. But he was right.

Those places are depressing. The minute you walk in, all you sense is depressing elevator music and large flower pots swallowing the room (fake flowers, the ones you buy at Target for about two dollars). You may be greeted by a young lady asking how your day is and convincing you to move in, but you know all she’s thinking about is which Alzheimer’s patient she has to get medicine for next. John didn’t need that, he was only 78. Not to mention his astounding health, no heart or lung problems, and quite possibly the best his memory had ever been. Or so he convinced himself. John thought to himself…

What did Jenny know anyway? Not to say she wasn’t successful, but she didn’t go to Notre Dame. She didn’t graduate Notre Dame with a 4.1 GPA or higher every semester. She didn’t pass the medical program two years earlier than expected. Who was she to tell me what to do? I have more wisdom, and my class ring and diploma can prove that.

“Listen Jenny…” He began.

“Save it.”

He was expecting a response with attitude; she had given them to him her whole life. And boy was she good at them.

With that, he left. Although he didn’t have far to go, he trudged down 12 stairs to the place he called home; Jenny’s basement. His little sanctuary was composed of a bedroom, bathroom, and small living room originally intended for laundry but recently renovated. He didn’t have much, not much at all, but it was just enough for his belongings and small objects to remind him of good times past. He made sure his diploma sat on the small coffee table at the entrance of his home, in case anyone doubted him or his intelligence.

He sat on his deep tan reclining sofa and turned on the television a few feet ahead. His favorite show was on, Oprah, with a new episode called “how to look ten years younger now!” Ugh. Needless to say, he flipped the switch and the TV went off. Looking around the room he felt a sense of boredom, sadness, and guilt all in one. It was a familiar feeling, the one you got right before you heard bad news, or when you know you’re in trouble. The kind when you can’t decide if you’re going to vomit, cry, or both at the same time.

His small frames rested on his nose the same way they had for the past 12 years now, and although his sight was going, he’d prefer to squint than deal with the ladies at the eye doctor trying to sell you anything and EVERYTHING.

He noticed a couple leaves falling off his plant that was sitting on the window ledge, and struggled to remember if he watered it yesterday. But anyone, of any age would forget that right? Sitting there deep in thought about the previous day, the only sound in that entire basement was the ticking of the small clock hanging on the wall; the one he no longer seemed to hear but anyone who stepped foot in his sanctuary seemed to complain about. At every hour it made a small chime, one that almost was a part of him now, one that he could predict was coming without looking at a clock for hours.

It struck 3 o’clock and a little bell went off in John’s head, along with the chime coming from the wall. As it had been tradition for the past few years, John made his way slowly up the stairs trying to listen to the footsteps above; figuring out which room Jenny was in and how to avoid it at all costs. Grabbing his coat and slipping on his worn out gym shoes, he left through the front door without catching sight of Jenny, let alone interaction. He passed the 3 houses to the right of the sidewalk, noticing the same paint chip or crack in the sidewalk as the past day, week, or month, and finally reached the last cement square on the corner of the road; where he would wait for Gavin and Eva to get off the school bus at 3:10 exactly.

Gavin was in 3rd grade and Eva was in 1st, but he remembered them taking their first steps and speaking their first words. It amazed him much of the time, just how fast time flew and how much things change; always trying to decipher whether that was a good or bad thing. They greeted him with a big hug and smile like always, and they each took a hand walking back to their house, Gavin on the left and Eva on the right.

Just when they were approaching the house, Jenny looked outside the window still feeling very somber and upset that her own father still yelled at her. But that instantly changed. What she saw as she looked out was an inseparable bond between a grandfather and two grandkids. Smiling, laughing, and swinging their arms as if it came straight out of a movie; she hadn’t seen any of them that happy since yesterday—when he picked them up from the bus stop. It was a silly thought that she would even consider separating them from one another, because although it may not have seemed like it all the time, John made them happier daily than they did on Christmas or their birthday. And Jenny finally saw that.

Thinking to herself, she thought about that one quote her mother used to continuously say to her growing up.

“Having someone to love is family. Having somewhere to go is home. Having both is a blessing.”