stream of consciousness on my grandparents

i would press my thumb to the button on the metal handle and carefully open the kitchen cabinet with the glass front. i'd take out this jar of marbles, spill them onto the rug, and roll the cold smooth spheres between my fingertips. and these tiny plastic pink and green mermaids whose arms would perch on the back of a glass. and red, gold and green swizzle sticks. and a gag beer goblet that didn't spill when you turned it over, instead the tan liquid bubbled to the top and then went back down—the foam was fake, i wonder what it was made of? but that's not all, there was magic shell chocolate sauce for ice cream. i’d crack it with my spoon when it hardened. and there were these colored pencils that were stored in a hidden drawer. one was a red pencil that you never sharpened you just peeled away the outside layer. and there was this sammy davis, jr. record and pop-pop would play "the candyman song" over and over for my brother and i through these comically oversized headphones that we'd take turns sharing as we danced in place. these super soft leather headphones. and ga-ga would cry "oh happy day!" and then pop-pop would blow us smoke rings on command, "one more pop-pop, one more" as we pointed a finger to his mouth. and we called my grandparents "ga-ga and pop-pop" until i felt like we were too old and declared from now on we would call them "grandmom and grandpop" which my mom said made them sad.

but i didn't have time for that sort of talk.