Your grandfather sends an editorial in the mail.
You unfold it, read it, disagree with it, leave it.
You wait, then write him a handwritten letter.
Weeks pass.
He emails you another.
You open it, read it, disagree with it, leave it.
You wait, then whittle a reply, a collection of words that splint-
er more than they probably should.
He waits, then writes.
You wait, then write.
You love your grandfather but loathe this contest.
It has been weeks now.
He is 90 and in chemotherapy.
He still owes you an email, but you're not sure
if you don't first owe him an apology.
