I Still See Grandmother Wave
Her curtains always yellow
even in winter – she had to
see through them, through
glass – she had to know
everything going on below,
on Seneca Street –
If the street lights were on
and Father was not inside –
that’s when buckets of water
fell onto heads gathered
near the cellar door –
Grandmother, laughing.
Her radiator hissed – and
her thumb curled – way back
she would lick it as she
turned each page of her bible.
But, it was me – me sitting in
front of that radiator begging
for cookies from her cookie
jar –
Grandmother continued to
pray, and licked her thumb for
every page she turned –
Today, I wish you were still
sitting, facing the window, still
breathing – still telling me to
read “John” from the “New
Testament.”
Instead, everything changed.
I seldom walk up the stairway –
I seldom gaze up to the window –
but every now and then –
When I am leaving the house
I still see Grandmother wave.
A lovely homage to grandmothers everywhere Nancy.
Thank you.
😀
Jack thanks for the read. Although this is a small “tidbit” of life, it serves as a wonderful foundation when it came to Grandmother living upstairs. I am sure you have noticed she pops up in many works – and is the main character of my epic novel, which I hope to finish editing this year. Fingers crossed. Sincerely, Nancy