Grandma’s Garden
Reading Time: 2 minutes
"To Grandma the strongest, most alive, loving and free spirited woman I have known. I miss you Grandma." - Naomi Sara Grandma's backyard reminded me of her, a sea of choreographed chaos, dandelions, white-puffed clocks, their seeds drifting tied to natural parachutes, travelling without notion of place, happy in that fraction of time we call "now". I imagined her arms slowly swaying to Janis Joplin at Woodstock as I watched the daisies dance in the whispers of wind like drifting clouds, clouds that promised petal-rain. And I saw her in the sunflowers firmly rooted in the earth, standing tall, proudly radiating yellow petals as if they were a lioness's mane. Remember watching her tiptoeing, picking the red berries, so vibrant against the grey ceramic bowl, her calm delicate hands spreading over each green leaf as sunbathing starfish upon summer rocks. She was at home among the flowers, weeds, wands of grass, cheerful hopping robins and darting squirrels as if she hummed along with the garden, the scurries and the subtle movements of flora, listening to nature with more than her ears. One day she pointed towards a sparrow, explained to me how the small bird flew not in a swooping arc or glide, but as if it were attached to the sky by a yoyo, and I watched as it went from tree to rooftop, up, down, up, down, up. Then she smiled taking my little hand in hers, "Listen to it," she said, "Listen to the birdsong, it comes sweet and high the laughter of our winged friends as a magical flute softly floating and free, notes never written dancing as steps never taught." Then twirling and hugging me she laughed softly, "It is the river of the air, a flowing music that hydrates our parched souls." I didn't quite understand all she said back then, but today I take the time to listen to the birds singing I seep into the moment, my feet still, heartbeat steadily drumming to their melody; and remembering grandma and our cozy closeness, patterns trace my cheeks where my teardrops come and dry. © Naomi Sara 2023
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