memories

Rebecca -
eloquent, serene, beyond beautiful.
The timeless image
of a girl in a flowing dress –
one you would have found over your
grandmother’s piano in 1934.

The only child
of a difficult divorce -
she spent her weekends
in the country
with Granny. Her haven from real life.
Harlequin Romance, black coffee,
perfect biscuit, mouth of a sailor Granny.

Hide n seek in the corn patch,
swingin’ from the tire swing
'neath the old pecan tree,
dreams of adulthood and
the ability to make
her own decisions
while she stared at fluffy clouds
over by the tigerlily patch,
bluegrass on her front porch
‘til the fireflies
went to sleep….
idealistic it all seems
to one glancing retrospectively.

Time slowly turns her awkward childhood
into a stunning woman.
Granny becomes a widow,
moves to town,
marries a general,
lives in a 3 bedroom ranch,
wears diamonds,
quits smoking,
reads Barbara Taylor Bradford
now.

Rebecca
becomes the bride
of that handsome lawyer
from New York. She’s been to Ireland.
Drives a ‘fancy’ foreign thang.
One of them cars made over in Europe.
Has had her hair straightened,
a new house up in the mountains,
and plays her great grandmother’s piano
in the front hall.

Granny thinks about her all the time.
Remembers when she used to call just to say ‘i love you’.
Granny still sends a card every birthday,
wonders if she shouldn’t have married the general,
worn diamonds as much, maybe she shoulda made more biscuits.
She prays to understand where she went wrong
or maybe....it’s just kids these days.

Rebecca,
buries herself in
the duties of being a lawyer’s wife.
Remembers rockin’ on the porch
with Granny at midnight,
listening to the cicadas sing,
and wonderin’ how Granny didn’t know
Grandpa was touchin’ her
in all those bad places.