a poem for my recently departed grandmother
I remember her hands
with raised, delicate veins I'd stroke
hands that were soft yet firm when she clasped mine
riddled with arthritis but full of warmth and love
wisdom and pride etched onto her skin
I remember her laugh
one that emerged from somewhere deep within
still ringing faintly in my ears moments later
her eyes crinkled and her head thrown back
one hand clutching her heart
I remember her scent
a sweet fragrance that once filled her '86 Cadillac Seville
enveloping me in a hug with every ride
a distinct aroma that lingered in the rooms of her house
leaving me in good company even when I was alone
I remember her stories
of growing up on a tobacco farm in North Carolina
in a home where laughter and mischief were commonplace
stories of eating watermelon hearts and climbing cherry trees
of embracing warm summer days and tormenting her dad's cat
But what I will remember most is her smile
reflected in my own
a smile that was flawless despite a few missing teeth
one that rivaled the morning sun's greeting
and that I long to see again.
RIP Clarice Durrant (1927-2021)
Love you, Grandma. See you soon.
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