Life without him

Sitting in grandma's backyard, I admire the grape vine resting peacefully on the black fence, the old chipped paint slowly wearing away, like the deepest memories in my mind.

The sour purple grapes made me pucker my cheeks, the vine seemed to touch the sky. The grape vine was as green as the hydrated grass, and it was super thick. My papa would pick me up off the mushy ground and put me on his shoulder. I remember his white ripped t-shirt felt so soft on my face when he held me. I knew we were going out to the garden when I could hear his tool belt clanking against itself, he never went anywhere without it. I can still hear the noise in my head. 

He picked me up off the ground, because my tiny arms and hands couldn’t reach the grapes way up top. My bare little feet would dangle off the grass. He made me feel like I could touch the clouds. It’s an effect that he has always had on me. Looking from the grass, the grape vine was an intimidating tangled mess of greens and purples. But when I was with Papa, flying high upon his shoulder, he made me feel bigger than life itself. I would pick the grapes from the tip-top, they were the best. I remember touching the wet surface of the grapes, the droplets that condensed after a rainstorm. 

“They taste better after the rainstorm ,” Papa always told me. I never believed him until one day I tried them. They taste ten times better than the other ones. It's like a whole new world when you try the mangled, wet grapes. 

I remember my first time trying the “rainstorm grapes” 

The grapes were hard on the outside, so when we would pick them straight from the vine, my papa and I would see how many we could eat before the sourness would get to us. Once we picked them, we brought them all inside and washed them all off in the sink. I remember going in through the side door, always seeing Grandma smiling through the glass window. We rinsed them off and would end up getting all wet from the sink. When we ate the grapes, we would squeeze the cold hard skin with our teeth and bitterness would explode throughout our mouths. My papa and I would look at eachother and pucker our cheeks, our mouths filled to the edge with grapes.

We went back outside to the garden for our second batch. We passed his rocking chair, past Grandma, past the big dining room table, past the pasta that was always on the counter, past the kitchen, to the side door, and back out into our happy place. Papa would let me walk on his big work boots, my feet seemed like a dolls to his. He had on his blue stained jeans, dirty from his hard day at work, and would always have a smile on his face when we were in the garden.When we walked to the grape vine, everything else disappeared . Just me, Papa, and the grapes.

My papa would always tell me how simple things can be if you make them simple for yourself. Papa was an old school guy, and knew all the old tricks and tips.That’s why I was so inspired by him. He was an old soul, a big loving (and very protective) teddy bear. Papa also knew his family always came first, you never messed with anyone in his family. He would always fight for his right, always building things, and always in the garden. When Papa wasn’t building things, he was in the garden or in the kitchen. Papa loved his garden just as much as he loved his family. That’s why I felt so safe in the garden with him. 

Little did I know that would be the last time I would pick grapes with Papa. If I miss my papa I head over to my Grandmas, and go to the saved grape vine out back, one of the last memories I have that makes me feel connected to him. I snag a handful of grapes and remember the sun hitting my face, and my heart explodes with admiration. I hope one day I can be to someone I love, what my Papa was to me; my safe place, my home, my inspiration, my role model. I close my eyes at night, picturing the purple grapes, his work boots, Grandma's smirk from the kitchen window, and I smile. I know everyday that passes by, my papa is watching me from up above, and I hope he sees the person I have become. To this day whenever I eat grapes, my mind flashes back to these moments, the moments that make me me, and my heart swells up with affection.