In the distance, a telephone rang. He wondered why it was in his dream. Then the last vestiges of pleasure slipped away as the phone rang again.
He lifted his head and pain shot across his neck. Pushing his glasses back in place, he blinked away the fog that clouded his mind. Clutching the photo, he made his way to the kitchen. His heart lifted when he recognized the caller ID.
"Margie! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Their only child, now twenty-two, lived with her husband, John, in California. Lately she had been urging him to sell the house and move to California. He couldn't imagine moving anywhere. He enjoyed Chicago with its distinct changes in weather, from brilliant sun in the summer that kissed Lake Michigan to the brutal winds and snows of January.
"Dad, I have wonderful news!"
Lord, she sounded so much like her mother. "I could use some, hon."
"Are you ready? Are you sitting down?"
He laughed. "Tell me."
"I'm pregnant!"
His baby was going to have a baby? It seemed like only yesterday he'd changed her diapers. Wait. That meant he was going to be ... a grandfather?
"Did you hear me, Dad? Isn't it wonderful?"
He sank onto the kitchen chair. Margie was too young to be having a child. He was too young to be called Papaw. Maybe he had a few streaks of silver beside his temples, but that didn't make him old. Only old men became grandpas.
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