Grandma’s House
or what is left of it, in the mind
you lived alone
your time as a wife came and went
marriage rendered to rubble
because of his sins
he made you want to die
but you kept on living
for her—for my mother
for her bright eyes and her smile
for my sister
curly haired and loud
and full of boundless love
and for me, I know this
all for me
—
dim orange light above your kitchen table
it made the room glow like Mars
you always sat with me there
as we did arts and crafts
we made a panda out of paper plates—easy
we made a frog, a lion, a giraffe
we did origami
our heads buried in the instruction book
we did cat’s cradle
for what felt like hours
pinching, swooping, pulling the string tight
i crocheted and you sewed
needles and thread and a pin cushion
in the empty tin of butter cookies
political talk show on your radio
with words i could not understand
and angry tones that i could
my heart pounded against my chest
until i pretended not to hear it
—
prune juice and cigarettes
lime and orange seltzer cans
magnets on the fridge
pinning down pictures of you and me
an open back door
fresh, cool breeze on my face
sycamore tree in your backyard
the crane of my neck, endless
pink and orange chalk all over your driveway
exchanged smiles and cheek kisses
happy tears for unknown reasons
the smell of lentil soup
wafting from the stove
a hug, long and loving
a second hug, not wanting to leave
and one last hug
before i go
About the Creator
angela hepworth
Hello! I’m Angela and I enjoy writing fiction, poetry, reviews, and more. I delve into the dark, the sad, the silly, the sexy, and the stupid. Come check me out!
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Comments (17)
Well-wrought! You took me there. I recall after my mom passed I had a dream where she hugged me, and it felt so real. I hope your grandma finds you there in that inbetween place and gives you not the last but yet another.
This is a beautiful poem and has such a sense of nostalgia to it. Both very personal and very relatable.
What a beautiful; force to have in your life. I hope she felt loved as well.
I'm Italian and my nonna is the strongest person I know. Your grandma sounds like a absolute fireball. All the best women are. You've done her proud here. Sending love!
I only met one grandma briefly and none of my grandpas. I live them through stories heard. How lucky you are for those memories.
This was so nostalgic and emotional! Loved this so much!
Absolutely lovely! The images all throughout the poem are so vivid and the final four lines...wow. Excellent piece remembering your grandma!
What a beautiful tribute piece, Angela! So much heart poured into this
THis is beautiful, and makes me want to be a better mother
This is so profound
What a sweet recollection of treasured memories. I really loved your poem.
A little piece of warmth and sadness.
Awww, this is so sweet! 🩷 Love these images and memories you evoke of your Nan! "the empty tin of butter cookies" is absolute textbook isn't it haha! My Nan passed in 2012 (last grandparent to go) and I miss so much about her and the house she and pop lived in, and the time with her, the smells and feelings of being there! 🩷 Incredible piece!
This felt comforting to me ❤ Incredibly written, Angela! 💌
You are lucky to have a lot of memories - my grandparents were quite old when I was little and then gone.
A moving tribute.
Love for what it is, sacrifice. Beautiful narrative.