I remember the last time I saw her, it was my face
She didn’t remember.
She told me stories of my childhood, my job, my travel
As if I were a stranger.
I sat caught between forgotten and remembered.
Not knowing what to say.
Because that conversation that made her happy
Made me feel like a spy.
What if a certain question could make her reveal something
She would never say to my face?
Recognizing the subtle shift of responsibility
From the time
She used to scold me for picking tomatoes
Before they were ripe.
Leaving behind the times my many mistakes made her worry,
I joined her misted travels.
Choosing my questions carefully, I played the happy stranger
Taking time to listen.
Hearing stories of her grand-daughter, showed she remembered
Me. If not my face.
Secret Scribblings: The Spendy Pencil Newsletter.Click here to get Secret Scribblings for purchase info, sneak previews and giveaways of Lori Ono's fiction, illustrations and art books.
- Follow The Spendy Pencil on WordPress.com
Can’t find what you’re looking for in the nav bar? Search the Scribblings below.
Follow me on TwitterMy Tweets
© Lori Ono and The Spendy Pencil 2012 unless otherwise noted.We all work hard, let's work together. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lori Ono and The Spendy Pencil with appropriate and specific direction back here. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from me is strictly prohibited. If you are interested in a larger photo, one of my designs or articles for other reasons, please contact me to discuss. Thanks for visiting and your consideration!