what’cha got?

It felt like everyone found their way to my Aunt Lil’s living room that Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t ever sure what the “norm” was, as we only visited during the summers. And during those visits I often found myself giving my parents a look of “Is this what I should be doing right now?” But that day, I was comfy enough to pull out a folding chair and criss-cross my legs on top of it. I eventually got up and got too big a cup of grape soda, spilling it on the walk back to that chair. I’m pretty sure I just wanted something to sip on while watching everyone travel in and out of the swinging screen door for what felt like hours that hot afternoon. My brother sweatily shuffled himself inside a couple different times, asking me if and when I’d come jump on the trampoline, but I didn’t budge. I remember feeling like I’d spent enough time outside playing that week. I also knew that we would be heading back home that next morning, so that put me in a more tender headspace which led to enveloping myself in every voice and face that was in the room. At one point, I noticed my grandpa reaching out and acknowledging the ones even littler than me who were twisting and turning and even stumbling in front of him. He wasn’t a man of many words, and the words he did share would make you wonder if you were hard of hearing. But after a while, I caught myself scooting closer and closer to him. I thought about how he would commonly grab my hands and say “what’cha got? what’cha got?” in his low and extremely mumbled tone while opening and closing my palms, over and over again. I never thought anything of it , besides it being one of those silly things adults do to get a smile and a giggle out of a kid. I started to realize that’s what he was doing to my little cousins too. That’s when the curiosity ensued. I didn’t ask him right away, as I most likely found another interaction to watch unfold. Evening approached and my folks started to pack up plates and hug on necks. I put my chair back in the corner and began making my way around the living room, pocketing every soft yet serious “Alright now, y’all be safe on the road.” I walked toward the direction of that plaid and partially fuzzy armchair my grandpa was sitting in for he still hadn’t moved. Sure enough, he reached for my hand. But this time I quickly grabbed his one hand with both my hands — tightly. I looked to his face and said “wait, wait, why you always askin’ me that?” and with the smallest amount of hesitation he let a subtle smile appear as he said “well now little woman, what if ya never know what’cha got ‘til it’s over and gone.” As those words went over my 11 and a half year old head I kept my gaze on him and remember him looking up and away, towards everyone else in the room. I squeezed his hand even tighter and then let go, walking out to the porch to share a couple more “see you later’s.”