One day, when I got home from school, my Mummy decided to tell me about crazy people.
Her Daddy, she said was a crazy man. And she told me lots of stories about how crazy he was, and what he would do when his craziness came out of him.
Sometimes, she told me, her Daddy would think he was in the war again.
He would board up the windows and in terror await the coming of his enemies.
Other times, he would think the government was coming after him because he’d done something wrong.
He would hide away, trying to avoid being caught.
He would pull up the floorboards, thinking that the government was listening to his every move.
He would even, my Mummy told me, accuse his wife of being with other men besides himself.
This, Mummy told me, made him angriest of all.
One day, my Mummy’s Mummy got really sick.
And her Daddy was so crazy, that when she grew sicker and had to go to hospital, he thought she was making the whole thing up, and was really just going to the hospital to visit a doctor she’d fallen in love with.
When she told me this, I couldn’t believe it.
My Mummy’s Daddy was so in love with her Mummy that he thought she was in love with a doctor in the hospital. When really, she was just sick.
When Mummy finished telling me about craziness, I went to my room and drew a picture of my grandparents, holding hands.
I thought to myself, Wow. Falling in love must be the craziest thing in the world.
But it sounds wonderful.