At Grandma's House

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As I mentioned before, this does no justice. But I loved her.

At Grandma’s House

8.31.2010

In my mind’s eye
I always remember you
there on the porch in the middle of the night
passing out blankets and telling us where to sleep
and me tucking myself under that scratchy wool
inhaling the coal dust and warmth
In the morning there were pancakes
for lunch we had soup
and always, forever, homemade bread

You kept your little poems and articles
and letters from the war
and piles of paper in that office
that smelled of newsprint, rubber bands and books
And your stories of people you’ve met
and days gone by
the childhood you had
not colorful, but still interesting all the same
your words enthralled so many
and I was your granddaughter
sitting at the table
listening while you told
the past so alive in your sharp memory

Your voice was so gentle
your words were so kind
and I remember you there, holding my baby
singing softly “rock a bye”
the same voice that sang to me
and all of your offspring
four generations there.
How I miss those moments
and those things

All the ways I remember you
It’s so hard to say goodbye
because it seemed, I never knew you well
you weren’t a peer or really a friend
you were my cherished Granny
who traveled a thousand miles to visit
by train by bus or car
who gathered us in under the wing of prayer
and kept us, no matter how far.

You didn’t have a lot of things to give
but I cherished every gift
and you gave your love so fully
so gracefully you lived
always thoughtful of others
taking time for even the least
the mark you made will carry on
living deep inside of me.