They text and say they’re on their way. This gives her just enough time to tuck things in a cabinet and hide. She unlocks the front door and tucks herself in a cabinet, or somewhere they won’t think to look.

“Hello… GrammaKath? Hello?”

Silence. The hunt is on. Up and down the hall, in and out of rooms. This time they can’t find her. So she knocks a few clues on the wall. They still can’t find her. She is kinda puzzled; it usually doesn’t take past one circle of the house. They call, she knocks. A stretchy 7 or 8 minutes later, they slide the shower door back, and they all squeal. She is found!

Not long ago, they hid with GrammaKath while GranpaBill hunted. Somehow he seemed to miss the giggles behind the door or the forgotten foot poking from under the bed or the sneeze spray and accompanying cough from… he couldn’t imagine where. After maybe 30 seconds they had to help him with a few wall knocks or “Marco Polos.” That GranpaBill. He always needed help.

Let the hiding go on as long as hunters will hunt. Let the memories make more memories. They still knock on walls. Are you looking for them GranpaBill? I think you see them. I think you’re squealing with them. I hope so, and I think widowed grammas hope so. Someday we’ll find each other and squeeeeal!