He woke up at [[6:00am again]]. I didn't feel like waking up but I know that I might only have a few years, few months, or a few days left with him. I have to see him.
I walked over to his apartment, went around in the back, and snuck up the ladder to his balcony. He's always in his chair watching the birds or something with his toast on his plate and coffee in his mug. He's been waking up at 6 am ever since grandma past away last year. Before it was 8 am.
As he saw me come up the stairs, he gave me a faint smile, although I know his faint smiles are always genuine. He's happy to see me, he just has a harder time expressing it now these days.
I don't know why he doesn't try to sleep in a little longer. I was wondering if, maybe this time, I [[should ask him]]why he wakes up so early or just [[leave it be]] I forget I may only have a few months or days left to see him since he's getting older. I asked him, "Grandad, why do you keep waking up at this hour? Why not sleep in a little longer?"
His eyes looked droopy. Maybe it's too[[early for him]] to answer me or [[maybe it's not]]. Either way, I was just curious.
Sometimes I don't like to ask too many questions. He's answered enough questions in his life.
"Good Morning Grandad", I said.
"Good morning, nice to see you again".
I notice he had [[toast on his plate]]. He was sipping on coffee and eating his breakfast. He clearly didn't hear me because he was so focused on his toast.
He looked at me after eating a few more bites and asked me, "Are you hungry?"
It was 6 in the morning and I have been waking up every morning to see him. My stomach is always hungry. Sometimes I just want to see him, I I debated saying.
[["Yes, I am"]] or [["No, not really"]]
He responded to my question and stated,
" Early?. Look at the birds flying across this city as the sun rises. Look at the the green grass that stays green until the whole city wakes up and tramples their feet on it. Look at this fresh cup of coffee with the toast on this plate. My day is active. It's not early. "
I didn't question anything he said anymore. All I cared about was making sure I still had another day to see him.
He looked at his toast once more and then He asked me " [[do you want to learn how to make toast]He looked at his breakfast, the [[toaast on his plate]] then he looked at me and said
" Do you want to learn how to make toast?"
Learn how to make toast? How random of a question is that. Of course I know how to make toast. He knows I'm 23 years old now and not 6....that is if he remembers still.
I know how to make toast perfectly fine and well. But I kept reminding myself that today could be my last day with him, I'll never know.
I thought some more about his question [[do you want to learn how to make toast]]
I told him I wasn't and thanked him.
He looked at me and said [[do you want to learn how to make toast]]? He looked at me and asked,
[[do you want to learn how to make toast]] I responded to him and said, " Yes, Grandad I would love to learn how to make toast. How do you make it?"
I assumed he was either [[going to get up]] or [[tell me how to make it]]He told me to come inside. We walked into his kitchen.
The kitchen was always my favorite room in this apartment. It's full of so many memories. It's a small kitchen but grandma and grandad always made enough room for guests. I took a look at the stove and remember helping grandnma bake coconut cream pies for everyone's birthdays. Then I looked at the wooden chairs and thought about how much I have grown because I used to think those chairs were huge when I was little. Then I looked at grandad who was looking in his pantry for ...what appeared to be loaves of bread.
I couldn't help but notice [[how much bread there was]]. I also noticed he had jars of what looked like [[hazelnut butter]]sauce stored up.
He began to speak,
"There's more to toast than eating mere bread. Your grandma taught me that. I like to buy bread from the local market on 12'th street.
It starts with brioche. A slice of brioche bread makes for the perfect toast. It's soft and chewy. Then I like to put two slices in the pan with salted butter and watch the butter melt. The smell is my favorite part. The kitchen starts to smell so sweet.
I am very grateful for smells like that in my home.
After the two slices of bread and have turned into this beautiful golden color, I take the two slices and set them on a plate. I like to use your grandmother's hand-painted plates."
Then he noticed the jar of [[hazelnut butter]] placed next to him on the coffee table.
He said "Come here for a moment". He reached for a jar of this hazelnut butter and his eyes were tearing up a little bit, although he was trying not to show it.
He opened the jar and it smelled amazing. The mocha brown color was beautiful. I've never seen a spread like this from the local market on 12 street that he always goes too so I was wondering where he bought these jars from.
He spoke, " when your grandmother and I had our one year anniversary after dating, she gave me a jar of this spread. It's her mother's recipe. Your grandmother was allergic to all nuts except hazelnut. Her mother had been teaching her to how to make this spread since she was a little girl. She loved it. Not only did she give me a jar of her hazelnut butter spread when we were dating but once we were married, she gave me the recipe after one year. It was her way of showing me that she loved me".
I began to get emotional myself. I don't know whether it was because I was starting to miss my grandma or because I don't know if I would have ever found out this piece of information had I not visited today. I wish he would have told me these stories when I was younger.
He looked like he was about to [[open the jar and put it on the toast]] or [[something else]]It appeared to be ...what was titled "Orginal Brioche Bread".
I assumed now was the time he was going to [[tell me how to make it]] He took the glass jar of hazelnut butter toast and opened it and handed me the knife.
" Why you don't you try spreading it on the toast?"
I took the knife , dipped into the jar and the butter spread so smoothly over the Brioche bread. It smelled amazing, like buttery cocoa. It was creamy and there was hazelnuts pieces embeded into the spread.
I looked over at my grandfather who had apparently walked out onto the balcony and was pourding coffee into two mugs.
I thought he was going to [[something else]]
He took the spread, two pieces of toast, a handmade plate my grandmother made years ago and told me to come outside and sit with him on the balcony.
"Here's a slice of toast for you. Go ahead and spread the butter on the toast"
The toast tasted really good as well as the butter. But what I was noticing more was that I was actually bonding with my grandfather. All of the sudden, I forgot about the time. I forgot about making sure to spend with him before it was his time to go. Instead, I was enjoying toast with my grandmother's infamous hazelnut butter spread.
He looked at me and smiled.
" Come tomorrow morning, I can show you how to make her coconut cream pie you guys used to make when you were younger"
All of the sudden, I woke up from my dream, wishing he could have stayed alive one more day so that we could have made that pie together.