A year.
It’t been a year,
since my sweet granny passed away.

I listened to the voice message this morning…
“Peggyyyy,
this is granny.
Call me.
I need to talk to you.
Bye.”

Hot chocolate on the stove,
in the big iron pot.
Tang in an old white Tupperware pitcher,
sitting on the table.
Applesauce with evaporated milk,
“That’s good enough to make a jackrabbit slap a bear!”
Cherry orange Kool-aid slushy,
created from milk carton chunks of ice.

Snapping green beans,
running them through the stringer.
Wearing the clothes pin apron,
hanging the clothes on the line to dry in the breeze.
Descending the stairs into the dank storage room,
to retrieve a jar of homemade plum jam.
Scraping the leftovers into a pan,
dumping them in a dish outside for the cats.

Making homemade cherry nut ice cream,
on Christmas Eve.

Mixing Jello salads,
filling old Cool Whip containers to deliver to the sick and needy.
Sterility fills my nose,
there’s another ill person to visit.

Standing by her side,
turning the handle of the machine,
to postmark the letters.

Grated cheese & mayonnaise sandwiches.
Macaroni & tomato sauce.
Cherry chip cake.

Dyed black hair,
shimmering a hue of purple in the sunlight.

Some people called her “Peg”,
I was special,
we had the same name.
I can still hear her saying,
“Peggy”
with a special rise in her voice,
as I come through her door.

Burnt toast and crispy cookies…
“That’s how papa likes them.”

“Go around the house,
write your name on the bottom of things,
so you can have them when I die.”
I couldn’t imagine it would ever be true.
Cosmetology school,
she made me promise to do her hair…
“Make me look pretty in my casket.”

I didn’t get to mourn her…
two weeks later…
she called to mom.
I didn’t know she was coming for her.
She must have known…
mom would be leaving soon.

My sweet granny.
She embodied sacrifice,
service without ceasing.

She left…
she was there…
waiting for mom.

Again, I listen…
“Peggyyyy,
this is granny.
Call me.
I need to talk to you.
Bye.”