Mam

Peering in through the large arch-shaped doorway, I gazed upon a soft brown chair that carefully cradled an older woman, her short red hair perfectly positioned, and smelling of hair spray. Her wrinkled but still beautiful face always bearing the brightest smile that would cause even more wrinkles to appear, but those wrinkles were special; they would only appear when she was passing on the joy she never seemed to run out of. I had listened to her stories and it never stopped amazing me that those stories grew more and more interesting with each passing year.

Her pale, soft hands would encase mine, and even though they’d been submersed in dishwater many times, they had never lost their gentleness.

Her bedroom was filled with purses and shoes, and off to the side, by itself, was a single jewelry box. When I was allowed to touch it, I found that it contained many beautiful necklaces that now hang carefully on hooks in my own jewelry box.

Her kind ever-thoughtful voice still echoing in the now empty kitchen telling my Grandpa to “stop teasing” me, which only meant he loved me enough to do so.

She sits asleep in her chair, her twinkling beautiful hazel eyes hidden behind a wall of dreams, the sound of western movies muffled to her as she dreams on. Then I blink my eyes realizing that all I was gazing upon was a memory. I know she has gone, but sometimes I can hear her laugh while I lay in my bed awake. I know that she has never left me, she’s been right here beside me all along.

Gretchen P. 16
South Haven, Michigan

Reprinted from Positive Teens magazine, Volume 9, Issue 2, June/July 2007

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