you with your eyes and hair
hands, cheeks and smile,
short and skinny miniature human
well, you’re not short, you’re fun sized!
everyone else is just tall
every inch radiating and glowing with warmth
whispering like the breath of wind
that flows through the trees
late summer pink sun streaming
through the leaves of the red maple tree
slowly walking through the neighborhood
rambling through the last days of
autumn summer winter spring
all the seasons, every year
I feel you here, no matter the roads I travel
I remember you and your sugar candy blush
that still lingers on even now
the warm feelings as I think of happier times
times where the silence didn’t consume
everything into its black hole of emptiness
little moments of bliss
the fuzzies I get when I drink a vanilla caramel chai tea
with milk and sugar, just the way I like it
though it’s not as good as Grandma’s homemade chai
because you know Grandma’s a boss at traditional Indian food
can never get enough of her aloo gobi and dal!
one of the things I liked about seeing my dad’s side of the family
the rest was filled with pain
but this rose quartz pink feeling
when I remember details about you and
all these years later, I think of those years
before you were gone like old man winter
blew you away from that central Minnesota suburb
and you grew up before you knew it
the month of March and shamrock mint milkshakes
and thick glasses because who needs perfect vision
when the world around is distorted and twisted anyway?
but there were some good things that shone through misery
overalls and train hats, Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire,
Audrey Hepburn, Michael Jackson,
Duke Ellington, Stevie Wonder,
Ella Fitzgerald, and jazz music and Harry Potter
piano, and belting out songs alone in the house,
Casey, the best little Westie dog in the whole world,
who’d go crazy when you dropped ice on the floor
and barked in her sleep, her little feet twitching,
Disney movies, and Sailor Moon
driving in the car with Mom,
listening to her belt out songs as the radio blasts
to the sound of our broken down Saturn car
playing with my Beanie babies and stuffed animals
and creating elaborate stories about who was the king
making up stories, but never having them come out right
when I try to write them down
checking out stacks and stacks of books from the library
and buying books for my overflowing bookshelves!
friends and days at the playground and innocence
childhood memories shape the present
ah, that trip down memory lane!
some hope and fun, mostly pain
but healing and consciously remembering
that child inside, who grew up too fast
trying to make up for lost time
and be ok with the present and uncertain future