She sang like a bird-opera songs-and her voice made people stop what they were doing to listen.Her voice made people happy.
Before my parents were born, Grandma was a fresh, pretty girl in linen skirt, smiling on the beach, her hair flying in the wind. She wore a red lipstick and blush. Her legs are brown with sun.
If I listen hard, I can imagine it now, in the way that she calls e for a cuddle.
I sometimes wish that we were the age. We can sing, cuddle and play together.
And look out over the tops of all the houses, and talk about everything we wanted to do when we were older, and imagine what it would be like to be a bird.
I imagine we would climb trees, as high as we could go...
Grandma's voice is softer now. It is husky, like wispy bark. It is slower now , like a lazy river. I have to listen hard and be patient as she finds words for things . But it is worth waiting, because each word lived so much more than mine.
I think we would look at the clouds and I would see castle and many more...
Because our minds love being together. And in both of our minds, she is that same fresh, pretty girl on the windy beach, and always will be.
But even though we cannot climb tress, I can still tell her stories, and she can imagine the thins that I see in her mind.
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