Waiting at the Station

The train carriages swayed me side to side,

As hot tea sloshed within the white foam cup.

I carried it to Mum, brimful of pride,

This simple task made me feel so grown up.

And waiting on the platform Granddad stood,

In old familiar brown and checkered hat.

He’d swing me in the air if he still could,

But hernias and age put paid to that.

His flannel shirt so soft against my face,

The smell of fresh-cut grass and summer showers,

And nothing quite as sweet as that embrace,

No love so unconditional as ours.

If memory was a place where we could stay,

I’d gladly spend forever in that day.

Then later, as the car pulls up outside,

Nana standing on the garden path,

Silver-haired and smiling, arms spread wide,

“You’ve grown so much!” She’d tell me, with a laugh.

Their home the place of summer dreams come true,

Of soup-dipped bread for supper every night.

My bedroom floral pinks and ruffled blue,

And Nana’s velvet kiss so I’d sleep tight.

Awaking in the morning before dawn,

To tiptoe downstairs softly as I could,

And snuggle in between them, cozy warm,

While Grandad made up tales of Wild Wood.

My favorite was naughty Silas bunny,

And Doctor Stoat. The voices were so funny!

At breakfast sat around the kitchen nook,

We’d plan the day’s adventures over toast.

Though Nana wasn’t known for being a cook,

I think I loved her scrambled eggs the most.

If it was hot, we’d head out to the shore,

Smothered in sun-cream so Mum wouldn’t fret.

Fish and chips for lunch, ice creams galore,

Exploring all the rock pools with my net.

But summer holidays end all too soon,

Our train departs the platform, fond goodbyes.

And Nana packed us treats to fight our gloom,

Brightly wrapped gifts to dry our tear-filled eyes.

If heaven is a wonderful vacation,

My grandparents are waiting at the station.