Today was weird for me.
I was so nervous and trembling with guilt.
~I don't have enough money.~
But my grandmother was going to buy everything.
I saw her pick out things like the price meant nothing.
She saw a pretty blouse and said "do you like it?"
Of course I liked it.
It was a pretty blue and had a very adorable set of flowers at the cusps.
The flowers were vintage.
It spoke of a librarian's day off.
A golden morning while sipping coffee,
with a walk on the beach after lunch.
but it was thirty dollars.
And I knew that if I said I liked it, she would toss into the cart.
She couldn't.
~ I don't want you to spend money on me.~
I shriveled.
As if I had aged significantly in under thirty seconds.
my back caved and my arms tucked themselves around my waist.
I suddenly found a great source of interest in my feet.
"I think it's really pretty," I utter.
"Do you want it," she asks.
It hangs like a thirty pound weight in her hands.
Of course I wanted.
"Oh, I don't think they have my size."
Of course they had my size.
She put it in.
I felt my soul snap.
How could I ask to spend so much of her earned money on me.
She works two jobs, and decides to use her paycheck on a lavish blouse for her granddaughter.
That thirty dollars could have gone towards food or gas.
How dare I become worth more than comfort?
She bought it despite my attempts to change her mind.

I love the shirt, it fits me well.
I feel confident and pretty in it.
but the guilt feels like I traded the world for it.

What a small room - my finger traces dust across the plain table.
What did Grandma DO here? I glance around for electrical sockets - none to be seen.
Her life was spent staring out the window, at 3D life, but only seeing memories.

I go to the wall and test the switch
a bare light bulb illuminates an area with a hot plate.
"Jesus", I mumble.

Why would she live in this shabby room?
Was this a punishment? Like a place where a nun would live?
No, I self correct in my mind Gramma was the sweetest person on earth.

I walk three steps, twirl and flop on my back, on the bed.
Dust explodes off the bare mattress in the sunlight
slanting through the grimy, half-open, shadeless window.

I wave and blow the dust away and now I'M lost in memory..
She was ninety-three - I never heard her say an unkind word
In that tiny, sand-papery whisper of a voice.

She always wanted me to sit in her lap, she wanted to brush my hair.
From 10 on I was bigger than she was and afraid I'd break her.

"Don't you worry over ME", she'd say with a chuckle, "I'm an old piece of leather."
Her cheeks were pink and wrinkled like old rose petals. Her hair a white bun.

"I miss you Gramma", I whisper.

I forgot what it felt like
To be burned
The familiar sting of sensitive skin brushed against fabric
All too real for me.
I wonder if she, too, felt pain like this.
Days spent basking in the sun on summer days,
While cancer scrawled upon her skin like a signature.
Sometimes I think she knew what she was doing,
Laying there,
Letting herself be killed,
Slowly,
But surely.
I hope she sees me,
Walking with friends.
Hundreds of us,
Marching for racial equality.
Would she have scoffed at the idea?
Or scolded me for not protecting my delicate shield?
Say,
“Your heart may armor your conviction,
But it does nothing for your ivory skin”?
But I know,
The lace on my wedding dress may hurt now,
But I will heal.
I cannot say the same for my brothers and sisters of color.
I will not let them lay there,
And be killed.

"I have a name and it’s Jaylen Foster
I am two weeks old.
But the size of my big feet
Will foretell my future:
big things to come

I am the third generation of Fosters
What the world need now is love sweet love
It is the new normal, the beginning of a bad ending
Social distancing, mask trending, and facetime,

My new world..  Six feet apart, no options
Only restriction: for them or for me??
The truth for our futuristic endeavors is to
Wear a mask, or stay at home..

I saw the smile, on her face, her laughter is contagious  
The joy of being a grandmother, pretty Joy for Paula
Proud moments for my father and mother..
a new beginning for a grandfather: David

Love and happiness for a two weeks old me
And distance kisses for cousin: Annie
Annie said the meaning of my name is Joy

My grandmother's voice says nothing can surprise her.
My grandmothers’ voice, says wisdom,
My grandmother’s laughter is genuine,
When it comes to me.. Jaylen Foster
Keep the pictures coming?
Meant keeping Joy alive

As stately as a Redwood and as strong
as the gray cliffs of the Sierras,
as warm as the sun on the kelp-strewn sand.
I remember her musical voice and I hear
the murmur of the waves
and the whisper of the wind
in the Eucalyptus trees.
I see the limitless ocean and sky,
remembering her beautiful blue-green eyes.