Built by the Same Blood

It had been a decade since I had seen him. Add a few more years and that's when I had seen him the time before. Each time before that, I was a kid without the ability to make lasting memories. Therefore, when I turned into his driveway on Hillside Avenue in Plymouth, Connecticut, I didn't know what to expect. Not in any sort of worrisome or apprehensive way. Simply the sense of unknown that happens without constant contact. Throughout the years there has been a constant flow of greeting, holiday, and thank you cards in both directions, but it's hard to jot down and spell out a life experience within a card. I openly admit I'm absolutely horrible when it comes to phone correspondence and cringe anytime I need to call somebody for more than a quick question. While everybody else in my family is great at all of the above, I lack at each and therefore become disconnected far too easily. I'm working on it. 

My grandfather, Ron Ritter, grandmother, Lil  Ritter, and their dog, Blue, live in a quaint one-bedroom home atop the tallest hill in Connecticut. In case you haven't noticed, I've allowed myself to believe that I've conquered the tallest hill in each state so far. It isn't true. What is true though, is the quaintness in which they reside. They've created a home in which they have exactly what they need to live comfortably. Perfect for the three of them. While they've lived there together for 25 years, Lil herself has lived there for nearly 60. I arrived at their home tired and dirty, yet full of excitement. I was getting to see my grandparents. 

We sat down on the back patio and caught up a bit. I talked about school and my adventures, while he shared with me his health and routine. Our ages create current experiences which are completely different from the other's and therefore an interest in those of the other is created. He spoke of health while I listened and thought forward to the impact to my injuries will have on life in the future. I spoke of adventure and thrill, while he leaned back in his chair and reminisced of his own. Not once did he ask what my plan was and I enjoyed it that way. I felt as if he knew I would do well and would simply wait to see how. 

Regardless of how well we stayed in contact throughout the years, I enjoyed noticing the little things that keep us connected, regardless of communication. He is my grandfather and therefore his genes are in me. When I see his tool shed thoroughly organized and functional, I see myself. When he asks me questions, I realize they're the same sort of questions I would ask yet haven't heard from anybody else. He tells me stories about work and it shows where I get my constant desire to work. I watch how he goes about the world and does so meticulously, just as I do. We're built by the same blood and it shows. 

After a day, Wes and I must get back on the road. Lil happily did a load of laundry for us and enabled us to leave clean and smelling fresh. We share our "I love you"s and hugs. Goodbyes are had as Wes and I rolled down the road.