Family Heirlooms

My grandmother passed down a ring she got for her eighth grade graduation.

I wear it almost every day.

She also gave me her incessant fears and worries-

I wish I’d gotten her unfailing hospitality, but she gave that to my mom instead.

/

When he died, my Papa left me a jacket that smells like him-

it still does now, years later.

He also left me the snippets of the made up lullaby he’d sing my sisters and I to sleep with,

stuck in my head forever in the sweetest way. I hope I can sing it to my kids one day.

/

Mom is constantly giving me so much,

tangible and intangible, except for her boundless generosity.

I am a fear-driven miser,

but even when she has next to nothing, she gives.

/

Dad gave me a college education and his work ethic.

Additionally, he gave me the anxiety of trying (and failing) to live up to him.

We’d never talk about it, and he’d probably disagree,

but I think he gave me some of his fears, too.

/

Somehow, my great-grandfather (in blood and name only),

a man I never met, passed down his alcoholism.

It skipped a few generations, but it flirts with me, often,

especially when I’m lonely.

/

I am an unintentional magpie person,

an amalgamation of relics and hurts and joys and shadows and hopes

that ebb and flow and amplify and diminish and traverse generations and continents.

For better or worse.

And so are you.