Exponential Memories

Exponential Memories

I am 8 and my grandmother

tries to hold my hand

as we step from the curb.

Defiant, I pull my hand

away from her protective grasp

and strut across the street.

She understands and lets me go.

I am 18 and she calls to see

if I can come by and help her

retrieve some old things

from the rafters of the garage.

Irritated, I make an excuse,

lie, and tell her that I am

already late for work.

I am 28 and I find a letter

written by my grandmother

amongst the grocery coupons

and credit card bills. She wants

me to know she is proud of me

and happy that I’ve found someone

to love. I think about calling her.  

I am 38 and I knock on her door

and wonder where she could be

in the middle of the afternoon.

Incapacitated; she never answers.

betrayed by a small blood vessel

in her brain, she lies motionless

in the back bedroom unable to cry out.

I am 48 years old, sitting alone

in the dark. I long for a hand to hold

or a loving voice, on the other end

of the phone, that is just happy I called.

I think of when we listened to the Beatles

and the many times we played catch

because my father was just too busy.

SMG