Grandma’s House

you lived alone

your time as a wife came and went

marriage rendered to rubble

because of his sins

he made you want to die

but you kept on living

for her—for my mother

for her bright eyes and her smile

for my sister

curly haired and loud

and full of boundless love

and for me, I know this

all for me

—

dim orange light above your kitchen table

it made the room glow like Mars

you always sat with me there

as we did arts and crafts

we made a panda out of paper plates—easy

we made a frog, a lion, a giraffe

we did origami

our heads buried in the instruction book

we did cat’s cradle

for what felt like hours

pinching, swooping, pulling the string tight

i crocheted and you sewed

needles and thread and a pin cushion

in the empty tin of butter cookies

political talk show on your radio

with words i could not understand

and angry tones that i could

my heart pounded against my chest

until i pretended not to hear it

—

prune juice and cigarettes

lime and orange seltzer cans

magnets on the fridge

pinning down pictures of you and me

an open back door

fresh, cool breeze on my face

sycamore tree in your backyard

the crane of my neck, endless

pink and orange chalk all over your driveway

exchanged smiles and cheek kisses

happy tears for unknown reasons

the smell of lentil soup

wafting from the stove

a hug, long and loving

a second hug, not wanting to leave

and one last hug

before i go