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Betty
I remember the creek behind grandma’s house
I remember exactly how it smelled
I loved going to grandma’s house as a kid
The meaning of grandma changes as time goes by
As the taste and age of wine changes
Some years are good and some are not my taste
I regret not writing to grandma
I feel much time went to waste
But the times I did spend were educational
She made me value my own beliefs
Since she was stubborn in her own
Some beliefs I related to, some were not my taste
I know what it’s like to feel special around grandma
Knowing that she tells her friends all about me
That I am an important topic of conversation
She made me want to talk about her too
Like my favorite color of cobalt blue
She colors the world to my taste
I know my family history because grandma took the time
To collect memories about all of us
I feel worried that I will not be able to replicate those memories
As well as she does
I am afraid that I will not tell these stories
To the taste of my grandmother
I know that I will tell others about my grandma
Despite her stubbornness
Despite her closed mind to my religion
I will only know how she was a part of MY life
I love her just the way she is, because she helped make me, who I am
She is my grandmother and the feelings she shed to me taste wonderful
-R. Velarde (2010)
#liveperformance #performanceonstage #poetry #grandmother #losinggrandma