When I look at my Grandma,
I see my mother's hands,
my aunt's brown hair,
my uncle's brown eyes,
and their brother's smile.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see the love she has for her family,
the quiet wisdom from years of observing,
and the leather bound book she holds
so close to her heart.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see many mornings spent at the kitchen table,
and many evenings spent at the sink or stove.
I see the jewelry,
and high-healed shoes
that I would retreat to in her dimly lit bedroom.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see love,
values,
family,
and incredible strength.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see that age,
time,
sickness,
and her own decaying body,
cannot touch
what she has left behind.

m.e.