Noni is Italian for Grandpa

Noni fascinates me. The way he can sit so still that flies will land on his hands and he doesn't have enough energy to swipe them away. Or perhaps he doesn't care about things like that. The way his glasses are too over-sized but still look just right for him, and cover up those eyes that are full to the brim of longing when they lay upon us dancing across the room, saying "me too?" with every slow blink. The way he can fall asleep in the middle of a conversation and look so peaceful so no one disturbs him. The way his drinks wine with every dinner, even around the campfire.

Fascinating, fascinating. The way he still has dreams of going to Italy when time is running so short. The way he walks slowly like a mountain, hunched over, a careful destination laid out in front of him so as to be most efficient with the journey, even if its just a trip to the kitchen. The way he sits outside and can just watch the birds pecking seeds from their feeders, one hand curled around his knotted cane, gnarled like an ancient tree. The way he works in the garden planting carrots with me or driving the pontoon over a glass lake with loon calls in the background.

I love him. The way he knows his days are numbered and is still patient with his life but says he is still too impatient to plant one seed at a time. The way he is aware that time can end and runs away like a child but if you wait long enough it can come back. The way his hands are sixty years older and are rougher and gentler and more careful than mine. The way he watched the sun set to see if it will be any different than how it was yesterday. The way he'll always be in his chair, snoring with a lazy mouth, like clockwork. The way he has the same number of wrinkles on his face as grandchildren. I'm the one under his left eye that gets deeper when he smiles.

He watches the birds, and the sunset, and the commotion. He always gets a cold at the end of a visit from his grandchildren. He likes key lime pie. He wears the biggest glasses I've ever seen. He always blinks when the picture is taken. He has a great laugh. He makes wine, grapes to bottle. He uses handsome walking sticks. He has back problems. He maintains a garden. He is a dentist. He sits in a reclining chair and reads. He is a Twins fan. He has cancer. He has numbers like three months or three years. He is alright with that.