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August 01, 2008
Bertha
Her name was Bertha,
her sister called her “Bertie” -
“Grandma” to me,
in her petite woman’s body,
her deep set, soft blue eyes,
crinkly brown hair,
a few grey strands
wavy and cropped,
framing the gentle round face,
warm, compassionate smile -
her humble heart,
our open book.
Homemade noodles
spread on her kitchen table,
windows on all sides,
sending a northern breeze
through the old, haunted, two story house
on top of a steep hill,
facing the ancient Ohio River.
Apple trees dotted the hillside
my Grandfather planted
for those glorious pies,
not too sweet or spicy,
with perfect sour green apples,
light, flaky pie dough,
she made with her seamstress hands
while small hungry eyes watched,
waiting for the chance to taste.
Night would come
and the squeaky fold-up cot
rolled out and placed against a wall,
with antique flowered wallpaper
often traced by small curious hands,
in the one full bedroom upstairs
where my widowed grandmother slept...
so soundly.
Lying awake,
I could hear her breathe
in her sleeping dreams,
when I saw them coming toward me -
a young girl with braids, in a dress,
carrying a lantern,
and the older boy in overalls,
holding an ax,
as they floated in their bluish transparency,
a chilling fear
swept through my child’s body,
frozen in the still night,
hidden under the covers,
until the safety of daylight
and my grandmother’s awakening.
Today, she would make doll dresses,
like the intricate ones she made for us,
and I would thread the needle,
puzzled why she could not see,
soothed by the buzz of her sewing machine,
tired from a sleepless night,
and the ones she never saw.
In all the years,
events came and passed,
her constant presence and fond devotion,
her daughter and family so far away,
killed in a tragic car accident,
and then her only son,
she called him her “Buddy”-
my gentle father,
died too young
from a heart attack.
She, with her weary
faded
broken heart,
her body unwilling to go on,
and I
not knowing how to be there
for the women who was always there for us,
totally loving,
my dear unabridged Grandmother...
I love you so.
Posted by kay at 02:32 PM | Comments (0)