Grandma’s Arms
tell us a story mama
my children said to me
about when you were little
‘bout your childhood history
what do you remember
how did it used to be
how does the winding road of past
become your destiny?
and i remembered...
grandma’s arms at the piano
swaying wildly to the beat
and me in awe right next to her
thinking she was neat
the shadows danced across the room
and kept the beat in time
and i remember smiling
thanking God that she was mine
an evening’s entertainment
never cost a thing
when grandma told us stories
rocking on the frontporch swing
a never-ending journey
i was always packed to go
i remember grandma’s stories
and how i loved them so.
grandma’s arms in the kitchen
working hard at kneading dough
flesh and flour in combat
bathed in sweat and all aglow
everything she was to me
though clearly from above
was on that black, formica table
spread with noodles
made with love.
grandma’s arms made lots of coffee
piping hot and thick and sweet
and when we all sat drinking it
our circle felt complete
it’s funny how the things you
did in life will follow you
‘cuz i’m forever making coffee
like there’s nothing else to do.
those fleshy arms would hold me
and gently touch my face
and deep within her love
i knew that this was my safe place
a soft warm world that smelled of her
and kept me safe from harm
was all i ever needed
tucked away in grandma’s arms.
when my grandma’s time was up
and death was at her door
i knew with sudden clarity
things i’d not known before
these knowings didn’t frighten me
or fill me with alarm
for i just hunkered deeper down
into my grandma’s arms
somehow it’s been a thousand years
since last she held me tight
but i still see her blue eyes
smiling at me through the night
her love and lessons fill me
with the hope that i will be
equally important in
my grandchild’s memory
- robin madden
for my grandma
Helen Partymiller Gratsch
1897-1971
