The day she was born

The day she was born,
her grandfather made her a ring of silver and a polished stone,
because he loved her already.
Someday it would fit her finger.
He made a bed her size and covered her with a rosebud blanket to
keep her warm,
and sang her lullabies she did not yet understand.

He brought her food from his store to help her grow
and caught her before she fell when she took her first steps.

In summer they swam in the ocean and collected shells together,
and her grandfather watched from under the shade of a big umbrella
as she made a castle in the sand.

Sometimes they went to the mountains and walked in the woods,
and she floated down the creek on a rubber tire.

When her bed was too small,
her grandfather made another for her to grow into,
and a shelf for the books she would read,
and a doll to hold.

He sang her songs,
and told her stories of long ago that had been told to him.
Some he made up,
and some were about his love for the little girl.

She helped him in his store after school,
and loved the smell of the sawdust he sprinkled on the floor
when it rained.
Sometimes she gave out the wrong change,
but at lunchtime,
when they ate their hot soup,
he laughed about it,
because she was just learning to count.

Then her grandfather gave up his store and grew fruit in his
garden instead.
They picked apples and plums and tomatoes,
and there was more time.

He made a crade for her doll,
He made a crade for her doll,
and a flute of bamboo,
and they sat under the trees
and played music together.

And every year she loved him even more than the things
he made for her.

Time passed,
and the ring fit the little girl's finger,
and it seemed, sunddenly,
that grandfather was an old man.
One night he become ill,
and after that,
part of him could not move.

The girl wheeled him in his garden,
and cut apples for him to eat
and saw that his cup was full.

At night she tucked him in bed
and sang to him
and told him stories he told her.
and some were about hot soup,
and sand castles,
and floating in the cool water
on a rubber tire,
and of her love for him.
She said,"Good night,Paouli,"
and he answered with a kiss.

She knew that one day he would die.
But when he did,
she was not ready ,
and she hurt inside and out.

It was spring,
and she cut blossoms from his trees
and gave them to him,
and said ,"Good night forever , Papouli,"
but he did not answer.

The blossoms became apples
which hung unpicked on the tree.

She picked them,
knowing he would not want them
to fall and rot.

She tought of the tree,
once bare,then in blossom,
and now bearing fruit for to pick.
The tree would chang with the seasons,
again and again.

She would be there
to watch it grow,
to pick the fruit,
and to remember.

Anonymous