Mi Abuela

 /   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
July/August 2009

By Anna Lueck

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.

Mi Abuela Anna Lueck

Anna Lueck, 12
Vashon, Washington

About the Author

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