We All Have a Breaking Point

My grandfather invited me and my little brothers to help move a piano.

Piano’s are some of the heaviest pieces of “furniture” I know. This thing was an antique so it weighed 100 pounds heavier in dust alone.

The piano fought hard as we struggled to get a decent grip. It was married to the floor and didn’t want to leave for fear of paying child support.

My grandfather watched and cheered us on.

He said loving things like:

  • Move your ass Aaron..
  • I swear to God if that thing scratches the floor..
  • This piano has been in our family forever. Break it and..

It was after a simple remark he made that set me off like no other.

“Aaron, put your back into it” he said.

“FUCK YOU GRANDPA, I WANT TO KEEP MINE” I shouted.

It was uncalled for especially since he threw out his a long time ago but the adrenaline and latter twenties angst I felt was overwhelming.

He didn’t take it personally. I think I earned some respect; kind’ve like the scene in Gran Torino where Clint Eastwood and the barber showed the Hmong kid how “men talk.”

Anyway, grandpa if you’re still reading this, I love you. And quit pestering grandma about getting rid of the dog (Schnauzer).

It’s staying and that’s final.

Love, your grandson.


Congrats on making it this far. Green hearts are somewhere.

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