Grandmothers

I’ve never had one. Sometimes Jennifer takes me to visit hers, whom lives behind her parent’s home. I sit there quiet, just watching the two of them interact. I always ask my mother what my own was like. I love stories about her, her habits, her favorite dinner dish. I almost cried tonight, I envy her deeply, that she can have such a relationship. I wish I could, even a trip in time to just watch her around the small house, to smell the smells of the kitchen right before dinner time, her footsteps, knowing she’s about to tuck me in.

Perhaps I lament too much, the dream of a child to old for his own good… farewell.