granny

i recently lost my grandma, "granny". sweet memories of her have been flooding back to me & all i can do is write about them, cry, laugh, smile & silently thank her.

Photo by George Pagan III on Unsplash

it's the taste of a biscoff cookie
when i am miles high in the air 
alone on a plane 
that reminds me of all the times i sat with my grandma
on a wooden bench in the kitchen of the home that she grew up in
having our breakfast of coffee & cookies

i cradled a tea cup full of black coffee
the taste too bitter for my 7 year old sweet tooth 
but i wanted to be just like her 

drinking coffee black 
having finger curled hair held neatly with a mess of bobby pins 
dawning a pink nightgown & matching robe until noon
painting fingernails with red polish 

i sat next to her on the bench in that tiny
sunlit kitchen 
even though there was a whole dining table
in the next room 

we finished our coffee & she decided it was time to
get ready for the day
i watched her do her makeup at her own mother's vanity 
lipstick patted into cheekbones
eyebrows & lip lines penciled on 
she told me i didn't need makeup 
but she dotted lipstick on the apples of my cheeks 
it made me feel pretty 

i loved the smell of her hairspray 
the way she used a hand held mirror to 
fluff up the back of her perfectly shaped hairdo 

my heart aches for these small moments
the memories my younger self had no idea she was making 
but in some realm of this grand & unknown universe 
granny & i are still sitting on that kitchen bench