Alifa Rifaat’s story, Just Another Day reminds me of my grandfather. When I was younger my grandpa would come up to visit us from Redwood City. He would always come bearing gifts, nothing super fancy, but I always looked forward to them. He loved watching me open them; they often consisted of golf-related items, such as new clubs and golf accessories. He loved to golf several times a week. When he would come to visit he’d take me to all the country clubs so we could golf together, I really enjoyed driving the golf carts more than the golfing, but I never told him that. I only got to see him once or twice a year but I always looked forward to his return. As he has gotten older he has been through several strokes leaving his left arm unable to grasp a golf club. That, combined with Parkinson’s, mild Dementia, and just old age, has forced him to become almost bed ridden in a nearby care facility. Though he now is still mentally with us, his body is tired. He often talks about getting his hand back into working order and getting out onto the green again, boy would I love to do that again. When I go to visit him he always talks about the past, the war, his homeland, and when he won a golf tournament. He now relies on the help of others every day to get him dressed, fed, and cleaned. He doesn’t have much of an agenda, much like the woman in the story. And I can’t help but think of him when read this story. The whole time I found myself relating her story to his situation. This has been the most moving story for me, out of this entire book.