Yesterday was my birthday. Not my eighteenth birthday as in so many Literotica stories, turn it around and that's more like it. I was eighty-one yesterday.
When Elsie died six years ago, I just couldn't abide living alone in the big, empty family home, so I sold it and moved to the cottage. She was just two years younger than me, and she went before her time, but that is life, I guess.
We have always lived in what they call Cottage Country, so it was no big deal winterize the cottage and decide what I wanted there for my retirement home.
I moved things like furniture and other stuff around a bit to have what I wanted, and get rid of the rest. Some things were given to family members, some were sold, and some even ended up in the dump.
The cottage is situated on a low hill overlooking the lake about a hundred yards away. I have a dock there and a twelve foot aluminum boat I use for fishing.
The cottage was sure a wonderful place to be, so many fun filled family week ends with the kids and then the grand kids. Great times when family or friends would come up from the cities down south to go fishing, or just relax for a few days. It was a great place to get away from the rat race, but that was in the past, nowadays, it's almost too quiet.
I'm not complaining, I'm comfortable here. I have all that anyone needs, and I have my memories to keep me company. Lots of really good memories too!
I was always into books and I have a library that contains more books than I will ever read in this lifetime. I have satellite TV to keep me abreast of what is going on in the world, and I have my car, snug in the garage that I built with my own hands a few years back, ready to carry me anywhere I might want to go.
Travel doesn't interest me much, and I mostly keep to myself because the family is always so busy when I go to visit them. Oh, they tell me that they are glad to see me, and go out of their way to make me feel welcome, but they are all a part of the rat race that governs our lives, and their time is not their own.
It was late fall, the leaves were mostly all gone, and an early dusting of snow left a couple of inches of the white stuff on the ground.
Most of the family had headed down south, two carloads of them off to Panama City in Florida to enjoy some sun and surf. It looked like I would be alone for my birthday, but really, that was no big deal. After you have had as many birthdays as I have, celebrating them is no big deal.
This year my birthday falls on a Sunday, and I thought that I would drive out to the highway for a meal at the gas station. They have a pretty good restaurant there, and a meal there would let me celebrate my birthday with some of my memories.
Imagine my surprise when mid morning on Saturday my granddaughter Karen's little red truck pulls in the yard.
She graduated from high school a couple of years ago, and her family bought her the truck for a graduation present, but more likely in recognition that she would need some wheels to attend university.
It was a cute little truck, candy apple red, with a tonneau cover over the short box. It had a stick shift and there were two bucket seats in it. Karen had it tricked out in all the do-dads that young people seem to need on their vehicles.
Karen's mom told me that they bought the truck for her because she liked trucks, and because they hoped that she would get in less trouble with a truck that only had two seats in it. She said that too often a bunch of rowdy back seat kids were the cause of accidents.
It was chilly out there, and before I could pull on a jacket to go welcome her, Karen had lifted up the metal tonneau cover, and extracted a plastic laundry basket from the box. I was able to make it to the door to open it for her when she got to the cottage.
I opened the door and stood aside as Karen breezed into the place with a cheerful, "Hi Gramps." I hate it when anybody calls me Gramps, or Pops, but I never have the heart to tell her that.
We go back a long way! Karen was always the one that spent time with her grandfather, whether it was at our home or here at the cottage. We had lots of good times together before she grew up into that "young lady" that had other interests and not much time for grandpa.
Karen told me that she was always short of cash, and she decided to come out and houseclean my place in lieu of a birthday gift. She also told me that she had brought some groceries with her from home.
First thing that Karen does is to make a lunch from the stuff that I have on hand.
After lunch, she puts the dirty dishes in the sink with the breakfast dishes, and starts stripping my bed, getting ready to do some laundry.
Karen goes through the house like a good dose of salts, grabbing everything she can find to wash, and then she starts vacuuming the rugs, taking the mats out to beat the dust out of them, and that sort of thing.
When the laundry is done, then it's the same thing all over again, but this time it's in reverse, putting things back, and making my bed up with clean bed clothes.
Then she turns her attention to the refrigerator, and that is a revelation. Despite her twenty years in this life, it would appear that Karen knows what best for me, better than my eighty some years of experience with myself.
It just doesn't matter what I say, if she thinks that some food is too old, no good, or whatever, it's gone into the garbage, and that's that, no argument. Thankfully she brought most things needed to replace what she has thrown out.
Karen's work is not finished by supper time, but she gets a meal on the table a couple of hours later, and we sit down to a good meal, served perfectly. She even brought a little bouquet of artificial flowers for a centerpiece on the table, and for the first time in a long while, the table has a tablecloth on it.
Just watching Karen work has worn me out, and after watching the National News that comes on at nine, I tell her that it's off to be for me.
Karen told me that it was too early for her to turn in, and she would see if she could find a good movie on the TV before going to bed. She came into my arms, gave me a nice kiss, telling me to sleep tight and don't let the bugs bite, a joke from the time we had together when she was a child.
Somewhere along about three in the morning, my full bladder warned me that a catastrophe was imminent unless something was done quickly to avert it.
I rose from my bed, went to the bathroom and did what had to be done, and returned to my bed, still more than half asleep.
I was surprised to see Karen, naked, sound asleep in my bed, but I was too sleepy for it to completely register in my mind.
I went back to sleep and slept like a log, better than I have in a long time.
When I woke up, I was lying on my side with my legs drawn up, and Karen was sleeping beside me, her ass spooned up to me, naked as a jay bird.
I didn't know what to make of this, wondering what to do next, and to tell the truth, I was a little embarrassed.
I need not have worried, Karen wakened a couple of minutes later, and when she became aware that I was awake, she wiggled her ass around, trying to snuggle it up even closer to me, if that was possible.
Not knowing what to do in this situation, I grabbed her like I used to do, wrestled her around a bit and pretended to bite her neck where it meets her shoulder. "You better be careful young lady, or I'll eat you," I said.
