Jerry is an integral part of our life. He drives the truck to carry the produce to the market, and invariably lands into arguments with the farmers. Yet, a day does not feel complete without his unsolicited interjections.
Today is different. Pumpkins are rolling out of the truck, as if they miss someone. Jerry has not arrived. We call his son, who informs us of his demise in the night.
“Hey, Grandpa! I say you have cut these off too soon. The ladies want better quality for their pumpkin soup and pies.”
We turn around, but it is an illusion.