And summer with another wind that no one yet has known
We laugh until we cry. We kiss until we touch bone. Our voices are stuck several decibles lower than usual when we talk on the phone, low and croaking and crouching, muddy creatures lurking in pond reeds.
My dad told me all about how it was with my grandpa. How he settled down into a bed in the living room, exhausted, ready to leave this world. The family surrounding him, reminiscing about their lives together. The morning, after he had died, my grandma holding his hand and saying, "I'll love you forever", my uncle calling out his name to try to get him back, my dad running his hand over everything in the house in an attempt to hold onto the last molecules of his father.
I talked to my brothers tonight, too. They're home visiting and it was so good to hear their voices that I ached. I could picture them -- Kody, tall and lanky running his hand through his thick brown model hair, and Jasper with pink cheeks and sparkly eyes, stroking his reddish blonde beard thoughtfully as he talked. Then my mother, rushed and loud filled with the noise of the family preparing dinner in the background, sighing with sadness and happiness and the difficult wondrousness of the world swirling all around her. The dogs I'm sure were in the kitchen with ears up smelling the steak and squash bread and up above on the art table Inky was swishing her tail like a black snake boa and squinting her Egypt eyes in content.
Ironically, I never said "I love you" to anyone as the phone was passed around, though the words were always ready in my mouth the way people stand behind a door and listen to someone on the other side.
It's spring. Oh, mango tango coffee joy, oh March blustering, oh April drumming, come to me, come to me, show me the earth giving birth, give me my favorite season with all your strength.
My heart is breaking at the same time as it is beating love.
My dad told me all about how it was with my grandpa. How he settled down into a bed in the living room, exhausted, ready to leave this world. The family surrounding him, reminiscing about their lives together. The morning, after he had died, my grandma holding his hand and saying, "I'll love you forever", my uncle calling out his name to try to get him back, my dad running his hand over everything in the house in an attempt to hold onto the last molecules of his father.
I talked to my brothers tonight, too. They're home visiting and it was so good to hear their voices that I ached. I could picture them -- Kody, tall and lanky running his hand through his thick brown model hair, and Jasper with pink cheeks and sparkly eyes, stroking his reddish blonde beard thoughtfully as he talked. Then my mother, rushed and loud filled with the noise of the family preparing dinner in the background, sighing with sadness and happiness and the difficult wondrousness of the world swirling all around her. The dogs I'm sure were in the kitchen with ears up smelling the steak and squash bread and up above on the art table Inky was swishing her tail like a black snake boa and squinting her Egypt eyes in content.
Ironically, I never said "I love you" to anyone as the phone was passed around, though the words were always ready in my mouth the way people stand behind a door and listen to someone on the other side.
It's spring. Oh, mango tango coffee joy, oh March blustering, oh April drumming, come to me, come to me, show me the earth giving birth, give me my favorite season with all your strength.
My heart is breaking at the same time as it is beating love.