Wednesday, April 21, 2010
April 4, 2010 Easter
Today's prompt is to write something about history.
Easter Sunday morning
Forty four years past…
In my dreamy almost sleep,
(Wondering if Easter bunnies bring baskets for teenage girls)
I hear the fuzzy sound, with some familiarity, of a ringing phone
And then my mother’s cries.
I am suddenly awake and soon, dressed sloppily
Trailing behind her,
In the chill spring morning
I watch my grandfather sob
His shoulders quake and he keens
“My pal, my pal…”
As we wait for the coroner to arrive.
The night before I watched my delicate little grandmother
“It’s for you,” she said as she pointed to the porcelain bust of my treasured
Hans Christian Andersen, peering down from the mantel.
“Someday,” I said.
Spoon poised halfway between the little crystal bowl
And her tilted face,
I watched her nod. And nod again.
My mother insisted we go to church
And so, of course we did
The cloying Easter lilies.
I am still affected by their scent.
The Kyrie droning in my middle
For days and days
Until replaced by some insistent Beatles tune.
This day, when I see my mother
We shall celebrate her eighty-ninth Easter
Once again she will remind me
(As if I could forget)
And we will remember my grandmother
Her soft bosom, her many aprons,
Her sweet smile, her exclaimed “oof-das”
Her Danish ways
And we will pass the history on.