Grandma's Hands
Grandma's laugh,
that propulsive, authentic exclamation
is coming out of my mouth these days.
Her hand, holds my husband's
and he knows it, knew her,
says:
"Look at Claire's hand
typing."
That was a great song.
When we were little,
the 1930's, her glory days,
were black & white History,
Rudy Vallee, rudimentary "automobiles."
Get with the space age, grandma!
I do the quiet math, discovering that
yes, she was younger then. . . .
than I am today (there I said it).
Decades become like potato chips,
piquant, smaller, and more precious
at the bottom of the bag.
But don't make ostentatious,
crumple-y mournful noise,
others are still enjoying the show!
"Get with the tech world, Mom,"
our kids say.
But they don't have to say it.
We've already made Blogging,
and the iphone uncool
by liking them so much.
Fashions shift to exclude us,
as they should,
don't you GET that?
We had the same imperative.
Healthy life-stage stuff.
And unlike grandma
we act laid back and cool
in the face of the suddenly
incomprehensible.
We cruise with it.
They'll have grandma's,
grandpa's hands, laughs,
jokes,
"far" in their future.
We quietly know what they don't;
It's a faster, longer, twistier ride
than anyone could ever know.
So laugh, beloved grandma in my soul
who is at this time becoming me.
Join me everyone, every creature;
Frolic hours, days, seasons,
one of them is a fraud.
But ain't this moment here
GRAND!
Strike up the band.
> < } } (°>
' Take Peace & Smiles - Leave Your Comment '
Thanks for visiting!
Warmly, cloudia
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
