Page 22 - Contrast1993Fall

a stony face of Adolescence,
Etched with boredom,
It is angry and self-absorbed.
Fireflies forgotten,
Mother replaced by friends,
Distanced with secrets.
It is summer but it doesn't matter.
I sit in front of the TV, eyes dull,
Head heavy with scary thoughts,
exciting thoughts.

Of curious lips, inexperienced hands,
Whispers.

Of the feeling in my chest.
It is a balloon,
It starts in my stomach,
It's blown bigger and bigger
I can feel it now, in my throat,
In the pit of my stomach.
It feels like butterflies,
Only it's not butterflies,
It's better
It's more exciting.
Mr. Meade is nothing,
Death is nothing
but this, this is everything!

Until,

A car ride When my mother tells me,
Grampa has died,
His heart.
tears fill my eyes,
I angrily wipe them away.
Not now.

"Your father is out there.
The Whole family is gOing,
would you like to go?"
I think of the beach,
The smell of the fire,
The crash of the waves
Cool sand between my toes,
Beneath my back.

The balloon is growing inside me again,
That feeling,
Like I'm soaring
Like the fireflies.
Don't make me leave.

There isn't enough room for Grampa to stay,
Only for me.

Nor room in my head for memories.
Memories of Christmases

Of the man known simply as "Grampa"

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