Seven years old, in the bathroom at the Jersey shore, I had to use the one in my grandparent’s room and there was my grand-dad’s reflection in the bathroom mirror, through a crack in the door. He was napping with his hands folded on his chest, smiling.

I saw a stick of deodorant on the countertop by the sink and it said, “Sure.” I thought one day he’ll be dead and look like that at his funeral, and the deodorant agreed, it just said Sure.

Categories: Memoir

Tags: DPchallenge, Memoir, postaday