Grandfather

The blast of the Air Conditioner in the train hit me with full force as I slowly pushed open the door. Men and women sat on either side of me, frowning slightly and looking grim as they stared at me, seeming to scrutinize every last detail of my face.

                26….27….28…..ah! Here it is! 29! I leaped onto my seat with a strange, childish delight and attempted to make myself comfortable on the cold blue seat.

                “Good to see you too, John,” a voice whispered to my left. How could someone have come and sat next to me without me noticing? I turned my head in surprise to the sound of the voice. Next to me sat a young boy, in his early teens, smiling a brilliant smile and one that immediately propagated the idea that he had absolutely no troubles at all.

                ‘H-h-how do you know my name?” I asked nervously, hoping that my face wasn’t too pale.

                The boy laughed; a laugh of wisdom, yet of youth. “Trust me; I know you well, Jinky-Winky.”

                I sat back alarmed. Adrenaline pulsed through my body at an alarming rate. I managed to recover long enough to say, “Grandfather?” Only my grandfather knew the pet name that had oft embarrassed me, even when he called me that in private. I glanced quickly to make sure no one had heard.

                The boy laughed even harder. “Of course, Johny-Wonnie, it took you long enough! Or as in India they would say, Tubelight!  You are now looking at me,” he gestured to himself, “As I was at 13 years. Of course I’m Grandpa Patrick, son- no need to keep calling me ‘grandfather’! Nothing formal here!”

                My grandpa’s cheeriness and enthusiasm was like an infection, and it quickly caught on to me. I found myself grinning idiotically from ear to ear at him, when a sudden realization forced me to turn grave.

                “No offense, Grandpa, but…umm……didn’t you-er-move on three years ago?” My voice was unsteady; I was not sure of how to ask the question without insulting Grandpa somehow.

                He, however, seemed unperturbed. “Oh, that’s simple. When I went up there,” he pointed upwards, “I simply asked God if I could have time to go back to Earth and advise you. He said that he could only give me time in three years. I, sincerely hoping to have a word or two with you, readily agreed.”

                I was a great philosopher at that time, and naturally I was intrigued by the idea of meeting God. “You met God? Was He Allah? Vishnu? Or the God from Christianity? Did you meet David Star? Jesus? Can you describe Him? What was He li-”

                Grandpa Patrick waved his hand dismissively. “Confidential information, son. Can’t tell you that. By the way,” he began rummaging in his pockets, “God told me to give these to you. He said you’re future would be bleak without you keeping them in mind.” He handed a crisp piece of paper to me.

                “That’s all, kiddo. I’ll be going now!”

                ‘No-wait-you can’t go yet!!! You only just came!” I cried unhappily.

                “Limited time, kid. See you in-” he paused for a moment, “4 years! That’s my next appointment. Cheerio!”

                My beloved Grandpa Patrick disappeared into oblivion. Everything around me seemed to come into life; people began bustling around, arguing, and playing video game systems. Feeling the paper in my hands, I opened it to read:

                APRIL FOOL’S KID!!!!!!

                P.S. Don’t worry; the meeting was all true.

                I glanced at the calendar; April 1^st, 2012.

                Trust Grandpa to remember April Fool’s Day even in heaven.