GP Morris is the son of my father’s brother Ray. He is a graduate of the University of Texas in Austin. He has lived in or around Houston, Texas all of his life but has a son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter living in Seattle, Washington; a daughter, son-in-law and another granddaughter live in Tyler, Texas. He recently began a journal of stories for his grandchildren and sent several to me. This is my favorite to date.
Lying on my back, I could see him through the slats.
He was doing the same. A smile on his face.
It was bright inside and out. He got up and
grabbed the top rail with both hands. He rocked
back ’n forth. He was laughing.
He bent down and picked up his bottle. Holdin’ it
above his head…rockin’ on his feet. Something was
about to happen. I quickly drug my bottle to the far
corner and started drinkin’.
His crib was four feet away. He flung his bottle
across the room. It clipped the top rail of my crib,
spun and shattered. He was still laughing.
My mouth clenched a nipple attached to 1/2 a
bottle. Milky shards of glass strewn about my crib.
Hot and sticky…all shapes and sizes. Sparkly wet in
the sunlight I put one in my mouth.
At that moment she opened the door. She calmly
took the glass from my mouth, gently inspected my
mouth and said, “No blood”. In one motion she
scooped me up, held me close and quietly sobbed.
The salt of her tears mixed with the milk on my
face. She turned around. He was crying.
She picked him up and we were three. She did not
put us down for an hour.
Gene and his twin brother Dean surrounded by their Morris cousins