Grandpa Sleeps in My Room

My name is Emilio, and I'm nine years old. I live with my mom and dad in a small house in Quetzaltenango. My grandpa lives with us too. My grandma died in November, and now he is alone.

Our house has only two bedrooms, so Grandpa sleeps in my room. I don't like it. It's MY room! Now his glasses and his old radio are on my desk.

And Grandpa snores. Every night, he snores like a big truck on a hill. I put my pillow on my head, but I still hear him. Mom says, "Grandpa doesn't sleep well now, Emilio. Please be kind to him."

On Thursday night, I can't sleep again. The room is dark and cold. Then Grandpa talks in his sleep. "Rosario, are you cold?" he says softly. Rosario is my grandma's name.

He looks very small in his bed, and his blanket is thin. For fifty years, Grandpa slept next to Grandma. Now nobody is next to him.

I get up and take my favorite blanket. It's blue and very warm, with a big yellow star on it. I put it on Grandpa, very slowly. He doesn't wake up. For a minute, he doesn't snore. Then he starts again. I go back to my bed. Tonight, I don't put the pillow on my head.