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Writer's pictureRachel Berntsen

remembering





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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