I am writing even though I know you will never read this. You’ve been gone so long,

sometimes I can’t remember your face.

But the memories we made together

have guided me through life,

a stalwart navigator on a sometimes stormy sea.

I remember the times we spent

together in childhood,

when I would sleepover

and you would spend all your time entertaining me.

I loved those weekends,

and felt like the most special girl

in all the world

as you gave me your undivided attention

at a time when I so desperately needed it.

The only girl in a world of boys,

you were my island of female maturity.

Smelling always of Rose powder and playing solitaire,

you were mysterious and yet always open.

I remember long walks to town,

with your button-up black ankle boots,

remnants from your youth.

Long since out of fashion,

yet they suited you perfectly.

You were a force of nature,

taller than the usual

for a woman from the 1910s,

but content to stand out

quietly in the crowd.

You taught me to play cards,

and I learned how to cheat.

Not so that I would win,

but so that you would.

I remember the day I first felt bad

for winning all the time,

and how I would pick up extra cards

when I didn’t need to

so that you would go out first.

I remember learning how to make boiled raisin cake,

then eating it for breakfast lunch and supper, feeling deliciously bad,

although it was adult-approved.

So many memories flood me

When I consider the time we had

And realize how lucky I was

To have you so long

You shaped me more than you’ll ever know

My Grandma,

My champion