Today my grandmother is on my mind, as it would have been her birthday today, Nov. 1st. She was the beginning of the November birthdays, which for my family and friends is jam-packed:
the 2nd, 7th, 11th (twice), 16th, 18th, 20th, 23rd and 25th all belong to someone I love and celebrate.
The 1st still belongs to Gram, though I can't tell her Happy Birthday with a kiss. I'll just wish it to her in my heart.
From In Childhood
the blue parakeet does not return
from the little grave in the fern garden
though one may wake in the morning
thinking mother's call is the bird.
Or maybe the bird is with grandmother
inside light. Or grandmother was the bird
and is now the dog
gnawing on the chair leg.
Where do the gone things go
when the child is old enough
to walk herself to school,
her playmates already
pumping so high the swing hiccups?
- Kimiko Hahn
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