Grandfather And Some Wooden Bowls

What becomes of a grandfather when he is old and worned?

In this short story titled, Wooden Bowls author unknown, we meet such a man.

This story appeared in the Triangle News Leader {a local newspaper, in the Mount Dora area of Lake County, Florida}on August 12, 2009.

With their permission I am republishing it here so everyone who visits this website can enjoy it as much as I did.

But be aware that some hearts might be touched, and some tears might be shed,

because I am sure that in our State & other places around the world there are more older folks just like this one.

Give your granddad a hug & a kiss, let him know how much he means to you.

To all the young men and young women out there, some day you will be

the granddads & grandmoms ----- something to think about.

Wooden Bowls

Author Unknown

A frail old man lived with his son, his daughter-in-law, and his four-year-old grandson.

His eyes were blurry, his hands trembled, and his step faltered.

The family would eat together at the dinner table.

But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hand and failing sight made eating rather difficult.

Peas rolled off his spoon, drooping on the floor. When he grasped his glass of milk, it often spilled clumsily on the tablecloth.

With this happening almost every night, the son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

“We must do something about grandfather,” said the son.

“I’ve had enough of his milk spilling, noisy eating and food on the floor,” the daughter-in-law agreed.

So the couple set a small table at the corner.

There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed their dinner at the dinner table.

Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in wooden bowls.

Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather’s direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone.

Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

The four year old watched it all in silence.

One evening, before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.

He asked the child sweetly: “what are you making?”

Just as sweetly, the boy replied, “Oh, I’m making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up.”

The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

These words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears streamed down their cheeks.

Though no words were spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening, the husband took grandfather’s hand and gently led him back to the family table.

For the remainder of his days, grandfather ate every meal with the family.

And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk was spilled or the table cloth was soiled.



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