Saturday, January 12, 2013

Alma and the little girl

Time. time. time slipping away. something. something. He reminds me of something.

It is a simple phone call at an hour we make.

Hello. in those voices we create.

How's life?



I know Alma lived here, and her second husband gave up the fiddle for God and what must have been the simple pleasure of Alma. The little girl did not know her then. She came later after he died but who she now remembers was a woman who could break out in a sweet song on the front porch.

I know Alma grew strawberries to the east and would see the little girl running. then stopping. to pick strawberries and eat them.

I know Alma lived here and would pour rainwater in a tub.
She showed that little girl how to collect it in buckets and boil it on the stove.

I know Alma lived here and she would laugh at the little girl. She always smiled and her voice was such a sweet whisper that the little girl had to stop in order to listen.

I think Alma is the reason the little girl would want to be a great grandmother.

Today I am grateful for what Alma taught the little girl.


Chantel said...

Oh Shea, I do love how you layer a story, weave hearts and time and laughter all together into this tapestry so marvelous...

Anonymous said...

I was gonna say what Chantel said, but the early bird gets the worm.

Shea Goff said...

Both of you, the one who got the worm and the one who didn't, are two of the sweetest people I know. Thank you for being here, for saying what you say.