Grant pulled up about two hours ago, hauling all of his earthly possessions in a tiny U-Haul trailer that looks like what you’d get if Volvo had spent the ’80s designing Airstream knockoffs.
Grant did not greet me with a kiss.
He did not greet me with a hug.
He did not even greet me with a normal, everyday “hello.”
Instead, Grant greeted me with: “Finish this line: ‘It was the third of June….'”
Because he is a hopeless Bobbie Gentry fanboy, he was expecting me to respond with: “another sleepy, dusty Delta day.”
Because I met Neil Diamond when I was 16 and promptly decided that “Desiree” was the coolest song in the world, the first thing out of my mouth was: “… on that summer’s day/I became a man at the hands of a girl almost twice my age.”
Grant was horrified.
I haven’t yet told him about my childhood, my father, or the crazy experiences I had on the road with Dad as a teenager. I think we’re going to have to have that conversation pretty soon….