Life In Minature

As I mentioned in a previous blog, Pop takes his life in small portions. I attributed this idiosyncrasy to the fact that he grew up in the depression which appears to have left its mark on his psyche, ingraining in him the need to live life frugally, compactly. In his present state of mind, all of those idiosyncrasies seem to be exaggerated. Occasionally his approach to life manifests itself in exasperating ways. Like yesterday when I was outside working in my shed preparing for a staging job.

Pop was at my heels, as usual, wanting to help in some capacity. Seeing me lifting always sets him into a rescue mode. For example, usually when I return from grocery shopping he brings in the bags for me, one bag hanging from each arm making several trips back and forth to the vehicle. It always makes me a bit nervous because he can barely get his frail form up the steps with his loads and he looks like a breeze could blow him over. Yesterday I was packing, loading and lifting and he wanted to help; an impossibility. There really was nothing I could think of to give him to do. But I didn't want to turn him away. Realizing how thirsty I was I decided to get him to retrieve a nice, cold glass of water for me, making him feel useful and to help quench my parched tongue.

With a bounce in his step he headed for the house on his mission. Soon I heard the crunch, crunch of his footsteps coming up behind me. Looking forward to a nice big gulp I looked up to see him gingerly making his way toward me extending what looked like a thimble of water. He had found the smallest glass in the cupboard and when completely filled, it allowed for about two little swallows. What did I expect? Pop lives his life in miniature.