Dar's newest album on the iPod,
I am haulin' ass down Smothers Road completely unaware that I have company.
They put their hands in mine – two grandmothers.
Maternal on the right, paternal on the left,
looking like they did when I was a young girl in the ‘70s.
Grandma, wavy thick red hair, green-lensed cat eye glasses;
Jerona, smiling and proud with her tall teased silver bouffant.
Deep auburn locks and freckles were beautiful to me, I wanted to look like that.
I inherited the silver tresses and “big bones” instead.
I adore it now – that I look like Jerona.
I love that glitter grows out of my head.
“Oh dear ladies, how I miss you everyday. I am so happy to see you.”
They smile calmly and nod, each squeezing a hand.
“Which one of you popped me on the nose yesterday?
You stopped me in the midst of a bad decision and made me think clearly.”
They won't tell me; they just grin wisely.
They know that I know what to do.
“Thank you for the subtle reminder
and for all of your guidance and your grit,
your lovingkindness, your silliness,
the pats on my head and on my knee.
your neverending love – even from the grave.
Please join me again soon.”
I want to hug them but know that is not possible.
Then they are gone and I feel lonely and protected,
both at the same time.