17 December 2010

Missing Isabella

And now is the time
I miss her most.

Hundreds of Christmas cookies
shaped by her hands
her soft Scots brogue
her long hair
wound in a braid
the scent of sweet soap
as she bent down for a kiss.

Hers was the home
open to all
and full to the rafters.
Hers was the floor
where I fell safely asleep
to the murmur of beloved voices.

Isabella
the healer of wounds
the guardian angel
of wayward children
the grandmother
whose birth month I share
whose birth ring I wear.

I miss Isabella.

3 comments:

  1. She kept the family together, didn't she? Now cousins who once played hide and seek behind poppop's grapevines and made her shout when they left the outhouse door open, pass each other in the Acme as if they were strangers forgetting that they once napped together next to the heat duct in the floor on the afghan she knitted. It was she who made sure poppop put more coal in the furnace to keep you warm.

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  2. Ted,
    Are we related? :-) I think all children remember their grandmothers in some similar ways. Thank you as always for reading and commenting. I always look forward to your views :)

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  3. Certain occasions will make us think and miss someone in our life. Such a fond and a sweet expressions of yours in thinking Isabella. It is so heart-warming, too.

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