Poetry Friday this week is with Jama at Jama's Alphabet Soup
|My grandson, in the season!|
As some of you know, my son, daughter-in-law and oldest grandchild, a dear grandson, moved away this year. We have seen them several times, and taken my grandson on an annual trip to the ocean, but still it’s not the same as having them five minutes away. Today we’re traveling to see them for the first time in their new home. I’m so excited to be there, to see their workplaces and school, where they work and where they play. It will be a good trip.
As I was reading some old journals, I found this poem that I wrote after this same son and daughter-in-law moved out after staying with us for a few months while a house was being built. Although of course we were happy for them, but even then, the house seemed too empty. Change is hard no matter what the good circumstances.
All the friends who carted cardboard boxes,
lines of clothes on plastic hangars,
dresser drawers, and the ones who grunted bearing
out the tables and the bed
the washer and the stove,
all are gone.
They took their pay of salami and cheese on rye,
tall bottles of Bud
and thanks very much we owe you big time!
My son walks through the empty garage
carrying the last bits, the cold stuff—
ketchup, mayo, mustard
two packs of juice, a lime.
He turns, leans to give me a kiss.
Thanks Mom flies at me and he leans
toward his wife, squeezes her shoulder,
says Let’s go.
I begin to sweep the garage, and make the floor