My Grandmother's perfume
was always as sweet as the fruit
she loved to share with me
its rinds thrown from the deck.
We watched as the deer came out
to feast on the skins.
Her perfume came
in beautiful crystal
and her collection spread
all over the bathroom.
She hummed as she got ready
her song beautiful like the hummingbirds
we would fill a feeder full of nectar for.
And as we ate at the small wooden table,
she would whisper,
"Look, my love! Our friends have arrived."
and the hummingbirds would sip from the feeder.
I always felt that they were her kin,
those hummingbirds.
But it would not be a stretch
for my Nana to be blood
with all the beautiful things.
She showed me how
to pluck a honeysuckle flower
and extract the nectar carefully
so I would taste a drop.
In the springtime,
butterflies would flock to that bush,
and we watched from a distance.
She taught me
where the daddy-longlegs liked to nest
and reminded me that they
were harmless.
I picked the wildflowers for her
and she would place the little arrangments
in water on the table.
My Nana would make me coffee
so sweet I could barely drink it
but I did
because the sweetness was just as sweet
as her.
I loved spending time with her,
even if it was just a phone call.
The number 2 pad on my mom's
ugly orange phone
was my Nana's speed dial.
I called her every day.
Every day.
She would light up when
she heard my voice
and I would chatter on about
anything and everything I could think of.
I still remember
the songs she used to sing to me
when it was time for bed
and I was wide awake.
"I love you,
a bushel and a peck.
A hug around the neck,
and a barrel and a heap
and I'm talking in my sleep
about you."
My Nana
doesn't remember the words now
but as long as I have
a voice to sing with,
I will sing for her.
As long as I have hands,
I will write for her.
And as long as I have a heart,
I will love her.
Even after the day,
she doesn't remember me.
Even after the day
she doesn't see my face
and know who I am.
Even after the day
she doesn't know she ever loved me.
