A Cup of Hot Chocolate on a Rainy Afternoon

"There is nothing more enjoyable than a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon."

"Indeed, dear. Nothing soothes me more."

Mary sighed. Eighty this year. It would have been John's eighty first.

"You know what, dear, I'll make you a cake."

"Cake sounds fine, but you know I won't be able to take one bite of it."

"Oh, yes, your stroke."

That was what had killed John. But Mary wasn't ready to admit that.

"You know, Mary..."

"Yes?"

"Well, maybe this year you could make a nice chocolate cake instead of all those vanilla ones. You know, treat yourself."

"Why, John, you grow more and more mellow and sensitive by the year. Remember, when you were young?" Mary clucked.

John chuckled. "How terribly my temper went. How ambitious I was. And you were content to sit at home and take care of the kids as I went out, a scientist."

Mary smiled. "I didn't think you terrible of temper, just ambitious. And that was what I loved. I was content to watch you, oh to watch you, you and your inventions."

John blew his nose.

"Is your cold coming back, dear?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, be sure to take your medicine just in case."

"Don't worry, I will."

"I can go get them now."

"Well, dear, if you insist on my well-being."

"We are retired, after all. You should think of your health more seriously. Otherwise, who knows when you'll live to see another grandchild?"

John frowned. "Mary, don't tease me."

Mary just laughed.

The doorbell rang and Mary jumped up to get it, telling John to stay where he was.

It was Daniel. Daniel was one of her very own grown-up grandchildren. He smiled at her, a warm, good to see you smile. She lead him around the house. After all, he was the grandchild that insisted on checking out her dwellings for leaks and such.

Before long, the last bedroom Daniel needed to check was Mary's bedroom. Once he went in, something sent a gentle shock through him. On one of the nightstands was John's old cologne, the one that he used to complain smelled like hand sanitizer. Daniel walked quickly over to the closet and pulled it open. There was a neat line of suits and pants, with a neat line of shoes at the bottom that covered half the closet. The other half had dresses and ladies shoes.

Just like what it looked like when Grandpa died. He let a trembling hand touch one of the suits. He remembered, his eyes becoming dreamlike, his Grandpa hanging this suit up in this place. They were coming home from church and...

Daniel stopped. He looked back at his Grandmother, who was lovingly brushing a hair off of one of the suits.

"Is... is Grandpa still here?" He asked this not to actually assess whether or not Grandpa was in this house, but instead to see if Grandmother was still hanging on to him. He knew, from all of the depression books he read after Grandpa died that it would be bad for a person to hang onto another, dead person for so long. Grandpa had, in fact, been gone for a year.

"Yes, out on the back porch. We were sipping hot chocolate before you came. Why do you ask?"

Daniel shook his head. How should he tell her?