/lit/ - Literature

>the breaking of a wishbone has disastrous results

I hated Notre Dame Football. Grandfather loved them with all his heart and soul. It was not his fault that he did not know my feelings, I guess I had just never made that fact clear enough to him. Grandfather adored Notre Dame as though it was a Golden Calf. Father told me he had loved them ever since he was young. He dreamed about playing for them, something that was dashed from him when his father needed him to milk cows for money. Grandfather has never really forgiven his father of robbing him of the chance to go to school. I think this was part of the reason why Grandfather tried to do so much for us. I remember him pushing for me to go to that private Catholic school and making sure that I always had a means to get to school. I loved him for that, he did care about my future and happiness.

"Air Force fumbled three times in the first quarter," Grandfather had reviewed everything that happened to me. He never seemed to let up on a single detail pertaining to these games. It seemed especially true today. Likely in part due to the significance of the game. Notre Dame on national television and on Thanksgiving Day. A team which had won nine straight games and were on track to not surrender a single loss.

"Grandpa, when’s dinner?" I asked, hoping that we could change the topic.

"It won't be ready for a while. Your parents are still out anyway," He shifted a bit on his chair. "Halftime is almost over, let's watch the rest of the game."

The last half lasted for hours. It was always difficult for me to sit through a game, especially when you are with someone who only talks about the game. I watched as my grandfather rose and shouted in applause when the team scored a "touchdown" and frowned when they "punted" the ball back to the other team. It was just a blur of shapes moving on and on. I did not want to hurt Grandfather, so I sat through it all, rolling around on the couch trying to be as comfortable as humanly possible. Comfort escaped me. The couch was so hot from all my movement. After an extended period—the length of which escaped me—I was finally awoken from a nap. I had not even remembered taking it, but it was interrupted by Grandfather's voice. "You missed the end, Brian!"

I jolted up. "What?"

"The game! Notre Dame won! It must have been quite the experience to watch that in person..."

"I would love to take you to a game someday..." He spoke. "Maybe— no, definitely. I’ll take you next year as a gift for getting into that school." Grandfather wanted to go to a Notre Dame game for a long time with me. He did not have much money for it, none of us really did. I know that it ate him up inside.

I heard the door open and loud chatter by the kitchen. It was my parents, back from visiting other family in town.