practicing my writing.
My little left hand grasped a pen
and I showed off my cursive to you.
I don't recall what I was writing,
but I do remember you saying,
"Wow! Look at you go,"
an admiring, toothless smile
on your face.
I remember walking by you on the couch,
thinking you were sleeping.
I tip-toed past only to find you were tricking me.
You jokingly reached out your cane to trip me
and then grabbed me and held me up
before I fell to the ground laughing.
I remember being in awe that you
could carry me with your eighty year old bones.
I remember the jokes
and the choking fits
and the hospital visits
and sitting in the front row in church
watching my mom dab the tears in her eyes.
I remember the reception and my blurred vision
when I wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying
at the stories people shared of you.
I remember going home that day feeling empty,
but knowing you're better off, wherever you are.
I'll see you soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment