The dog raised his head up off the porch as the car pulled up. He would have growled, but it was too hot. Instead, he put his head back down before the dust blew into his eyes. “The ankle-biter is here,” said the man in the rocker next to the dog. Activity rustled inside of the house.
The car door opened and a little boy peeked his head around it. He gazed at the wrinkled old man on the porch. He looked like a rabid apple doll having a bad day. The boy inched back toward his car seat. “Come on buddy. Go see your grandpa.”
The grandpa peeked his head around the front door. He gazed at the little boy hiding behind the car door. He looked like a fat-faced munchkin. The old man inched back toward his rocker. “Go on Pa. Go see your grandson.” said a female voice from inside.
The dog lifted his head up again. This was a multi-generational stand-off. The dog would’ve have been more interested in the outcome, but once again — it was too hot. He dozed back off to sleep.
The son of a son picked up his son and carried him up to the porch. “Meet your namesake, Dad.” The grandpa reached his hands out carefully. “Is he breakable?”
“Did you and Mom ever have kids?” the son laughed. The grandson looked at his grandpa with a weary eye. A warm wind blew across the porch.
The grandpa reached out and held his grandson for the first time. The grandson looked at old wrinkled man and said, “Pa paw…”
Years melted off the old man. He clutched his grandson like he never wanted to let him go. The son looked at his dad and said, “I named him for you, dad. I know we weren’t talking, but I still loved you.” The dog farted, completely ruining what was until then a tender moment.
For the first time in his 70 years, the old man was speechless. He just held his namesake. Whatever caused the argument with his son melted away in the late August Mississippi Delta heat.
