Grandpa Jesus

Grandpa Jesus "Jesse" Hernandez is hanging out with his namesake tonight. I bet he already broke out his famous salsa, and maybe even the recipe. He rarely shares the recipe, but I figure this is a special occasion. I can see him pop open a fresh jar while Jesus (The First) snags a bag of chips and a deck of cards. Jesse loves to play cards. Grandma Charlene, in all of her Nazarene glory, would rock back in her chair, flowered night gown flowing, and wag and tisk at his sinful ways. She is probably doing the same thing even know, chidding both Jesuses for gamblin' when they could be doin' something useful, for heaven's sake!

Jesse's accent sang a life of hard work and joy. He couldn't always find the right English words, but I understood what he said, even in Spanish. He always let me eat all the fruit I could pick, and the tangy flavor of wild grapes is the crinkles of his eye and his crackled laughter. He taught me how to milk a goat, how to pick a ripe cherry, and which jar of salsa was best for a little girl who thought she could handle the best.

Grandpa Jesse probably misses his billy goats, the obnoxious things. It freaked me out when they followed me around the yard trying to scratch their horns on me, so I stood behind the fence while Grandpa Jesse kneeled down and scratched them on the head, letting them butt against his knees a little. One hand on his back, he would stand then, smile at their bleating, and creak over to the rabbits cages. He loved all his pets, most of them too old and wild for me to care for, and I bet it is hard for him to be gone and not able to look after them. I hope someone else will let the billy goats butt them. I think they really liked that.

The last time I saw him was a month after Grandma Charlene died. We brought some groceries to the house, set the bags next to empty salsa jars, and picked up a pack of playing cards which were scattered across the coffee table. I found him out in the yard, leaning heavily on a cane and staring at his little goats. He made an effort as though to kneel down, and winced sharply. Noticing me behind the gate he smiled, creaked his way over to the rabbits, and sang back to me, "The grapes are good, mi hija. Have some."