I Remember Them (Part I)

 

Grandma, in faded apron, bustles about her kitchen;

pouring cups of thick, black coffee for all adults at the table.

We grandkids nibble homemade cookies and wait expectantly as

Grandpa deliberately fills and lights his sweet-smelling pipe;

then draws in and puffs out a few elusive smoke rings.

 

Grandpa, posing in the parlor before us, his audience,

dramatically recites Longfellow’s poem, “The Village Blacksmith”,

beneath backdrop of the painting by that very same name.

( Dad later tells me, when the small town blacksmith died penniless,

Grandpa quietly paid expenses for his funeral and memorial stone.)

 

Grandma, settles down into her upholstered rocker,

with a colorful basket of assorted yarn skeins nearby;

the needles click rhythmically as she chats contentedly

about their annual winter trips to sunny California while

knitting warm pairs of mittens or slippers for our Christmas gifts.

 

Grandpa & Grandma take us fishing by a small dam

where we catch about a hundred whiskery bullheads.

Later, behind the house by the pump, we clean them;

Grandpa and Dad behead and gut the wriggly fish;

Then Grandma batters and flips them into her magic frying pan.

 

Both grandparents bravely face their separate battles with cancer;

Grandpa, after sacrificing most of his stomach to surgery,

overcomes the disease, sucking candy instead of his pipe,

but Grandma, vowing never to live in a nursing facility,

dies among family at home and achieves her glorious victory!

 

4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. From my Forest (@HamishGunn)
    Jun 12, 2014 @ 18:00:56

    Beautiful – and saddening – words for the senses

    Reply

  2. Sumana Roy
    Jun 12, 2014 @ 03:09:16

    beautiful memories of happiness and inevitability of life…

    Reply

  3. Kathy
    Jun 12, 2014 @ 00:04:39

    Those of us who were lucky enough to spend quality time with our grandparents have many treasured memories…their home sounds cozy, warm, loving, and fun…thanks for sharing

    Reply

  4. Grace
    Jun 11, 2014 @ 23:59:30

    I can smell the homemade cookies and see your grandma kitting on her rocker ~ The memories you have sketched of them are indeed filled with love & happy remembrance ~ Thanks for the stories, smiles ~

    Reply

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