Grandma’s gift

Begin: When I was first married,
We didn’t have much money then.
I kept a corner store account
With the owner and paid weekly.
Counting coins was my daily task –
Stretching funds we didn’t yet have.

She recounted budgeting – house wife’s work.
Scrubbing and polishing ancient furnishings new.
Saving remnants of things children outgrew,
Creating new life of the scraps.
With pride, she managed her home.
Fixing meals and nourishing their souls,
She raised strong-minded boys and girls
With the ethic of work and
Smarts to move up from bottom.

Continue: You have to plan well –
Know what’s coming in and spent.
Nothing to waste, nothing cast aside.
And always, always build them up.

She closed her eyes then, remembering.
So often she was torn down.
But never stooped under the difficulty,
Nor accepted world’s value as worth.
No, she, this woman of virtue,
Was more than what they saw.
Poor in finance, certainly was true.
But the brilliance of her shined:
Appreciation of what was, understanding of
What was not, but could be.
Deceived by her skin, cast away:
the time when color determined all.
Lighter than most, but not white;
Her status set by historic Crow.
End: You take care of home –
Of that baby, and of you.

Sure, grandma, I dismissed her then.
Holding fast not to her advice,
But to what remains forever unsaid.
The legacy of grandma is pride.

Inspired by Six Word Fridays: SURE.

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Comments

  1. I’ve missed your words, dear friend.
    So beautiful♡

  2. This is a most precious tribute to your wonderful grandmother. As a grandmother myself ( finally, at the age of 68 ) pne of my three sons ( the only one married gifted me with a lovely granddaughter.

    As the daughter of a white woman, termed as “poor white trash”, born of Mississippi sharecropper parents, she struggled, excelled in school and became a nurse. Even then, she chose a husband who was abusive ( my father ) who left her. She managed to support my brother and me with her stern determination.

    I applauded the efforts of all those non-whites struggling in the South back then. My California friends find it hard to believe the stories I tell them.

  3. I waited to read until I had time to savor…always love spending time with your words. Thank you for sharing this lovely tribute and piece of your heart – parts of it reminded me so much of my mother in law – who means the world to me! Beautiful!

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