Grandchildren are Precious Diamonds

 Martha Ellen

 

By Martha Ellen

I've collected four poems about my grandchildren. Joyful hours with them like diamonds. They are all grown up now.  [Hidden from view are the traumas. These poems look the other way from later events when a New Age guru crashed into my family and stole away all of them with, of course, the lies he told and then cloaked in "love" and "beauty" and "righteousness" ..... and there are days when I think they may walk through my front gate again and we will recapture the joys of those early years.]


After My Heart Failed I Didn’t Want the Children to Be Frightened

I visited my grandchildren for the 
first time after my heart failed. 
When I arrived six-year-old Caitie 
was sitting in the curve of their black 
leather sectional I had named the
Black Mamba. When she saw me 
she jumped up, "Gramma!" 

Clairey was just a tiny baby. 
We all got into a tent four-year-old 
Liam had set up in Clairey's room. 
I made his doll "Minty Fresh”
fly all around the tent which 
for some reason they found hilarious. 

Then I couldn't breathe 
and had to get some air. 
All the way home. “Breathe. 
Go slow. You’ll make it.” 
Unlocked my front door.
Alone I entered into a 
long and dangerous sleep.

 

Sleepover

I arrive for a sleepover 
with the grandkids.
An overnight bag and vanity case
all stuffed with goodies.

Fairy wings, a Barbie princess 
gown, black Converse hightops
flames flaring on the sides.
The digging begins. 

“I don’t know why I
just like looking though 
suitcases.”  Cait said.
She’s six. Her brother helps. 

They run to me with a glass 
prism found hidden inside.
By magic it breaks daylight 
into gorgeous rainbows.

Caitie says, “Grammy I know 
why you take so many pills.”
“Oh, why do you think?”
“Because you’re soooo old.”

Liam drags a chair down
the block. I will be comfortable 
admiring him as he rides
back and forth on his new bike.

Clairey offers to apply 
makeup. I needed some
dolling up. Lipstick. Eye shadow 
goes on the upper lid, though.

Time to get ready for bed.
I tell them I’ve perfected
the ability to throw my pajamas 
into the air and jump up. 

When I land my pajamas are on.
Behind closed doors. 
Too bad they can’t watch.
[I’ll be bare-naked.]

“I better hear two thumps,”
Cait said. And Liam: “You’ll
need wires from the ceiling
[His dad is an engineer.]

And from behind the 
closed bathroom door
I hear three-year-old
Clairey. “I can’t, Grammy.”

“Practice makes perfect.”


Smooches

Sad and puzzled Clairey came to me 
as soon as I arrived. “Grammy, Liam 
never lets me kiss him.” She was five; 
her big brother was nine.

“Do you remember the day you 
both were at the pool?” I ask. She 
remembered. “Liam saw a man 
walking away holding a little girl 
with long brown hair like yours. 
Thinking you were in grave danger, 
Liam set aside fear. He ran after him
yelling, Stop! Stop! That’s my sister!”

Liam arrived with his buddies. They’d
been skateboarding. Independent. 
Big boys. Nearly grown. They had no
time for any smoochy little sister. 
Barely noticed her fly by in her silly 
fairy wings old Grandmother brought.

When I was packing my suitcase, 
readying for the long trip home, she
came to me. “Grammy, Liam loves me.”  
“Yes, he does even without smooching.”
We wave goodbye, throwing kisses 
to each other. Liam and his skateboard
friends sail past us without looking.


Bad Grammy

It’s all my fault.
I pampered her.
My beautiful baby girl.
Let her get away 
with everything.

So there was no one 
to blame except me
when she dropped 
a pound of frozen solid
hamburger on the counter.

“Grammy will make lunch.”
She was off to a Spa Day
leaving me with three
hungry grandchildren 
to feed. It was 11:30 a.m.
I would figure it out.

I lifted the block of meat
and dropped it several 
times. Clunk. Clunk.
“This isn’t lunch.
This is a rock.”

They watched my every 
move knowing full well
what may happen next.
It would be something iffy,
probably naughty.

“This belongs with
the other rocks.”
They followed close
behind as I walked
out the door, onto the
rock path in the garden.

“Grammy hucked the
meat in the yard!”
We piled into my 
car and drove to
their favorite restaurant
where they ordered 
whatever they wanted.