Ties That Blind

Grandmother and grandson, their faces cast so profoundly from one mold, or is it the struggles shared that have left the same clefts and furrows on both? Sunday visit in Tim Horton's; She, primly sipping Iced cap He, hungrily scratching Lottery tickets. Never looking at the other's face, each too busy quietly, yet impatiently auditing the allotted minutes. Or is it their fear of seeing the reflection of truth that blocks their view? This invisible division sits between them, like the sun uncomfortably blotting out the view through a windshield. He, scratches and does not win, then leaves her to primly sip as he methodically flees to his ageing car. She, sips without pleasure discretely watching through the glare, his slouching retreat. The ties that bind can be truly blinding. See you next Sunday dear?