My grandma gave me a jingle,
as she liked to say,
and asked if I would like to go shopping with her tomorrow.
She knew I would accept her invitation,
as I've never turned her away before,
so I am sure she was counting on an all day road trip
in her purple minivan.
The next morning,
I sat on my front porch,
hands in pocket,
as I waited not so patiently for her to arrive.
My feet tapped the cracked cement
as I watched the red ants
scurry around my shoes.
I tried as hard as I could not to squish any.
With every car that happened to turn onto my road,
I lifted my head up,
expecting it to be her.
First a silver car,
then a gold truck.
After that, a blue van.
Where was the purple minivan
with the fire helmet on the tip of the antenna?
Five minutes turned to twenty,
twenty minutes turned to forty five,
forty five minutes turned into two hours.
Still no crunch of the gravel.
Should I give her a call?
I could have used one of the Lifesaver mints
she had in her purse,
in her pockets,
on the floor of her purple minivan.
Mints calmed the nerves and stimulated the brain,
she always told me.
She would say that
with her slow and patient smile
as she unwrapped another mint.
Just as I began to really worry,
my grandpa gave me a jingle
and told me that grandma overshot my house,
accidentally taking her purple minivan
all the way up into the sky
so she could shop with the angels today.
This was sad to write, but makes me smile a little when I read it. I miss you.