Circa 2006, Grandma holding my daughter Ramiyah
Sometimes you just feel like writing about the ones you miss... a little poem that came to mind about my grandma. I hope you like it.
If you were here today,
I would pick up the phone and dial
Can you believe I still remember your number as if it were yesterday?
But you’ve been gone nine years,
It doesn’t matter though, I feel your presence all the time as if we’re still sitting in your kitchen eating bacon sandwiches and drinking tea by the window... people watching
I’d say, “Hey, Grandma”
You’d say “Hey, Peachcake”
Everyone doesn’t know you used to call me that, only those that are close...
I wanna tell you so bad that I have this cute porcelain flower figurine you gave me before I moved into my first house
I always keep it in my kitchen because it reminds me of you and even though I’m not a superstitious one, having that figurine there helps me to feel like you’re near and that everything is alright
The last time we talked, or should I say, I spoke, because dementia kind of started having it’s way with you, I told you Obama had just become the first black president of the United States
You looked at me with such a blank stare, you couldn’t help it though, it wasn’t your fault, but behind your empty eyes, I knew we still connected
A rush of memories came flooding back
Our walks to the corner store
The ride on the Pace Bus 381 to Ridge Mall
The feel of your silver tresses through my fingers as I ran the oil up and down your scalp and braided your hair just the way you liked it
You asking me to play “Near the Cross” on the piano while you hummed along
How you rubbed my back when that “time of the month” reared its ugly head
You and I talking on the phone about Victor and Nikki from the Young and the Restless like we knew them because you were my girl and I was your Peachcake
I will forever be your Peachcake