My Grandfather’s Books

by mudrhetoric


My grandfather was impelled to abdicate.
He was a tradesmen.
He read books.
Appreciated art.
Loved motorcycles.

I was given his notes from a Philosophy 101 course he took once.
Its focus was on Existentialism.
Often he would regal me with his tale of Sisyphus.
I never questioned its facticity.
It didn’t matter.
It was his story.

I don’t know if he wanted to be something else.
He was who he was.
He never seemed to regret the life he had chosen.
He made it seem like this was his only choice.
Maybe it was.
It didn’t matter.
He was happy.