Her Bedroom Wall
Her little grandson asked about
the “funny-looking picture” on
her bedroom wall. “Who’s Willie John?”
She said, “He was without a doubt
the finest man I’ve ever known.
He was my grandpa, so he’d be
your great-great grandpa.” Wide-eyed, he
said, “Wow! How come you’ve never shown
me where he lives or let me meet
him? Take me to him, Grandma. Please!’
She smiled and set him on her knees,
held back her tears, and said, “My sweet
dear child, Grandpa’s in Heaven now.”
“How long’s he been up there?” he said.
“For forty years. Now off to bed!”
When time was right, she’d tell him how
a “funny-looking” piece of art,
the gravestone rubbing she had made,
became a treasure she’d not trade
for gold. Its presence thrilled her heart,
just like her thoughts of Grandpa, who
had raised her when her parents died.
She reminisced—Oh, how he’d tried
to please her! There were very few
bad times. She knew he’d always taught
her right. She then recalled the day
she’d wandered till she found her way
to the old graveyard that she sought
and Grandpa’s grave—a shocking sight!
She pulled away the vines that clung
and cried with guilt as each she flung
off to the side with all her might.
She vowed, “This grave will no more be
neglected.” Then she used her skills
to make the precious piece that fills
the frame high on her bedroom wall.
entered in Geraldine Taylor's Creative Collective Anthology Series on
July 10, 2017
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