I think of her randomly. When a truck almost hits me head on; I think of her. When her sweater falls upon me from the top shelf; I think of her. When I see a small, big-eyed, older, and smiling woman; I think of her.
Your face was like the sea and your voice was like the air. You always believed in something good. Despite having little your whole life you maintained a kind of hardness. You took care of those younger than you before yourself. You tried to pave their road with as little rocks as possible.
Into the fields you went. Hands in the soil, buckets in hands, and a heart of gold you carried it all. The weight of the generation beneath you and your own. Grandma, your hands were never pretty, but they never had to be. Your skin was tougher than any warrior of ancient times. You didn’t need a sword because you had a heart fear couldn’t touch. That type of character is now almost extinct and with your memories I keep it alive.
I don’t want to forget you, your struggle, and your stories. Your fears, your love, and beliefs. Time can not change what you have taught me. When I look up at the sky I imagine all the shades of blue are caused by your fingertips, dancing upon the horizon. I would say I love you but the previous words said it all my love. I hope you are resting well, smiles and all.