Always

My back craves the comforting discomfort of a wicker chair…

My hands are restless, wanting to shuffle cards or blend pastry dough…

I want to curl up in the spare bed across the room from her and thumb through a biography late into the night…

I want to hear her snoring and say, “Grandma, you’re snoring!”
…and hear her indignant grunt as a retort…

I want to talk to her and sense that familiar feeling that she is really listening…
my words matter to her…what I think is important….I count…

I can still hear her distinct voice…I will always hear her distinct voice…
I love you…

Today my heart is full of love…and grief…but mostly love.