My Dear Granddaughter,

It’s been years since we’ve spoken.

Your mother talks to me often,

carefully arranging my little shrine,

placing my rosary just so, washing the dust off

the Christ statue I gave her.

She speaks to my spirit as she tends her

flowers and fish.

I keep waiting

to hear you speak to me,too,

remember me,

but you are silent.

When I make little visits,

bringing up your memories,

you turn away.

Are you angry with me?

Have you pushed to the back of your heart

the card games and scrabble matches

on summer afternoons?

You still talk to George,

each week a few minutes of tolerance for him.

And not me?

I know that you and I

were so much closer

than you and your grandfather.

I have so much more than games still

to teach you,

if only you’ll listen.

I whisper to you from old photos,

in the garden I rest quietly, waiting.

I know you hear a hint of me

in someone else’s laughter.

You can see that familiar twinkle

in a stranger’s face.

Don’t keep turning away.

Pause to think of me,

when I speak to you each day.

Come to me at the well, child.

I am never far from that black box beneath the ground.

Sit with me and admire the view

the way we used to

back then

when I was close, and

you were open to me.

I’ll be there waiting for you,

XOXOXO,

Grandmother Newton