We sat
 As it rained and drenched the thirsty soil
 We sat
 And laughed and talked and drank tea
 Seventy-seven years apart
 But closer than a mother and daughter
 We exchanged simple words
 Mine so young, so naive
 Hers wise and old and perfect
 I scratched the head of her dog
 I dreamed
 The dog was my brother and she was my mother
 But the dream never came true
 She was mi abuela, my grandmother
 Her hands were as crinkled and dry
 As the books she so often gave me
 Her body was weak
 But her heart was still strong
 Or so I thought
 The day I became old
 I learned
 of how she lost her will to live
 of how she lay there
 willing death to take her
 I screamed and cursed the earth
 And my world clattered down around me
 Instead of laughing, now I cried
 Why oh why did she want to die?
 I cried
 Like the rain that covered us
 Seemingly so long ago.

Vashon, Washington

