That Last Piece Just Fit Into Place

, , , , | Related | December 5, 2019

I lived with my grandparents growing up. While I had several top-of-the-line toys to play with, my favorite toy was a small IQ test block puzzle. It was a wooden square cut into six different shapes. To solve it, you had to fit all six together to make the square, but it was much simpler to make it with five. By the time I was three, I had learned how to put it together, though I much preferred playing with the pieces like you would blocks.

A few months later, my grandfather’s brother was invited to the house to celebrate his induction to Mensa and they brought out the puzzle to show him. I sat there and watched him work with it for a minute or so. He wasn’t putting it together right, and I kept seeing him get so close to the answer, only to mess up. He finally laughed and said, “Oh, it’s a joke puzzle. The sixth piece isn’t meant to fit in.”

I stood up from where I was sitting with my grandfather, walked over to the puzzle, and made my great uncle watch me as I put the puzzle together properly, wanting to be a helper and show him how to do it right.

My grandfather proudly told everyone for the rest of his life how his three-year-old granddaughter outsmarted his genius brother.

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Will Keep It Forever, Cross-Stitch My Heart And Hope To Die

, , , , , , | Related | December 3, 2019

I went to visit my dying aunt. We talked for a long time, and I mentioned that I still had the embroidered plaque she’d made for my birth. I was ashamed; I hadn’t taken the best care of it and it was quite dirty. I thought she might be able to tell me how to clean it.

My aunt started crying, and I apologized for my actions.

“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “My children threw theirs away. You’re the only one who kept it.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say to that, but I made sure I visited her as much as possible before she passed. I have an entire drawer dedicated to her letters, and a wall dedicated to her embroidery. It’s not going in a box or in the trash.

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She’s Not Being Very Hip

, , , , , | Healthy | December 2, 2019

My great aunt gets a call from a friend asking her if she wants to go grocery shopping at a popular bulk warehouse store and my aunt agrees. When her friend gets to the house, my aunt goes outside and slips on some ice in the driveway; she hits her hip hard and can no longer stand up. She refuses to call an ambulance, and two of her neighbors manage to get her into her friend’s car. 

My aunt’s friend asks if she wants to go to the doctor right away but my aunt responds, “No, you came to go to the store so we might as well do that first.” So, her friend goes grocery shopping while my aunt stays in the car with a broken hip. Afterward, the friend insists my aunt go to a doctor. Instead of going to the emergency room, my aunt insists on going to a faster care doctor’s office. 

They pull into the parking lot and my aunt’s friend explains the situation. A doctor comes out and tells my aunt they have no way to get her out of the car — she is somewhat of a larger lady — and that she really needs to go to the ER. My aunt complains. Finally, the doctor says, “Ma’am, you’ve broken your hip. This is something outside of our control. We can help you if you need something minor, but you are going to need surgery; you need to leave and go get the care you need.” 

She finally agrees to go to the ER and she ends up having quite the lengthy recovery process because she is just as difficult in her physical therapy appointments.

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Deadly Choices

, , , , , , | Related | November 29, 2019

(My aunt is preparing to make dinner while my brother, mother, and I are watching TV.)

Aunt: *calls from the kitchen* “Hey, [My Name], will you run downstairs and get some turkey burgers out of the deep freezer? Or [Brother], either one?”

Mother: *very promptly* “I don’t think [Brother] is in the freezer.”

Aunt: “Okay, good one. But will you go?”

Me: “Is it my choice which one I get out of the freezer?”

Aunt: “Yes. Your choice. Am I cooking burgers or your brother?”

Brother: “Don’t give them that choice.”

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Don’t Drop The Call

, , , , , | Related | November 25, 2019

(My nana and I live in the same apartment complex. I get a frantic call from my aunt.)

Aunt: “I was one the phone with Nana when I heard a yell and the phone disconnected! Can you go down and make sure she’s okay?”

Me: “Of course.”

(I go down to Nana’s apartment.)

Me: “Where did you fall?”

Nana: “How’d you know?”

Me: “[Aunt] called me right after. She said she heard a yell, and then you hung up.”

Nana: “I didn’t hang up on purpose; the phone disconnected when I banged my head on the table.”

Me: *to my aunt on the phone* “She’s alive. She said she fell and hit her head, but there’s no blood or bruising.”

(My aunt comes over to Nana’s apartment.)

Aunt: “Don’t ever do that again!”

Nana: “Would you rather I wasn’t on the phone with you the next time I fall?”

Aunt: “Yes! Just don’t do it while I’m on the phone with you!”

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