Childhood Memories

Being Young

Once when my grandmother and I 

were drying the dinner dishes, 

I  told her that I was sorry 

she was going to die.    

She became very still, 

an appendage to the dish, 

and whispered to my father, 

did he know a secret about her health?

Fluttering hands and darting glances 

told me I had done something wrong 

like stolen or lied.

My father took me out in the boat 

to say we didn’t talk about death 

to someone old.

He wasn’t mad, he seemed sorry.

I never meant to hurt my grandmother..

I had been thinking of  how much 

I would miss her. 

My father tried, but it really 

required the seasons,

to teach me 

how to scare away

the truth with 

silence.

Screenshot

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Notes From a Screened in Porch, Bay Media, 2016

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