I spent many days with both my grandparents on the east side of Detroit, and there was a routine to those days. I could not have known then that the lives of "Big Ma" and "Big Daddy" also were drawing to a close.
The nights were always quiet. You see, my grandparents didn't watch much television though there was a set, purchased by my father I believe, that sat right in front of an unused fireplace. After dinner, we three sat in the living room in utter silence. Big Daddy would look out of the window at people and cars passing by. Big Ma "pieced" quilts, knitted, or crocheted even with my head resting on her lap.
At dusk, just as the setting sun reached his eyes, Big Daddy would arise from his recliner and "draw the shades."
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I was compelled to share this scene from my childhood because it represents a way of life that has for the most part passed away. This short piece is less about my grandparents' imminent death as it is about the death of a way of living. Yet it is because of the fact that I got to spend this quality of time with my grandparents that I today know how to quiet myself and enjoy the peace that comes with doing nothing or not much of anything anyway. I want to show others who have perhaps not lived in such tranquil spaces the value of this quality of time.
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