At 5pm every evening my grandma would stand at the door and wait for my grandpa's work truck to pull into the driveway. He always came home the same time and if he was even a minute late I remember my grandma biting her nails and worrying for him. Sure enough he would pull right up, always. She would watch him get out of his truck grab his jacket and lunch box and walk up to her. She would open the door for him and he'd step up, lean in for a kiss. He would lean because his hands were dirty from welding all day. He would go take a quick shower. When he came back he would hug her, roll up his sleeves and start mashing the potatoes my grandma had left for him on the counter since that was man's work. Then he would sharpen the carving knife and cut the meat for dinner which was always at six. This happened every time I was there.
My grandpa would always say, "That's my girl", like he was still so proud to have landed such a beautiful girl. There were many other things, like jitterbug on Friday nights, and the fact my grandpa would never "go out with the guys" without his girl by his side that spoke to me more than words or advice ever could.
Sara
