Only one cure for evil: death

Chuck Kurtz

Mid-afternoon Wednesday, I was sitting on the couch in my son’s home and next to me, as usual, was 4-year-old granddaughter Rylin, snuggling next to me while playing doctor and dentist on her tablet. Then she stretched out, putting her head on the pillow and her legs and feet across my lap.

“Tickle my feet,” she said.

And, of course, I obliged.

We talked about her day in school, about how she ate the rest of Mee-Moo’s (Grandma Terri’s) meatloaf for lunch, and then began playing a maze game. We took turns helping each other.

“We make a pretty good team,” I told her.