without equal sprinkles
sit at the bottom of a clear
plastic bag in a box.
on my dresser, some may
call them ashes from a person
i can’t yet let go. but i’d rather
think they of them as snow drops—
all the unsaid only divine ear accustoms
today, i finished off a container (actually, i think tin is the proper term//) of nonpareils my grandps gave me for an Easter present. It was staple growing up & going to the movies with him. & a large, refillable bowl of popcorn, which i gladly woke up him half way through to refill. “oh, you want more? alright.” i think he was in shock every time i;d eat a tub and half, but not really. we used to talk about what i’d get every time we went. it was a special time. actually, any time in the car with him is special. there’s a certain peace that envelopes us, where i can listen to music (until i’m lost enough that e makes me jump calling my name) and where he talks about the old days, where everything was a nickel. or he sings to the oldies station. or hums to himself.
i see God in his eyes, smile, the way he will burst out in song, or exclaims: Ah, Lady plushbottom! Or, There’s my girlfriend! (will never understand this, but love i hear behind ever word, makes me grin & my inside mush.) i love him more than i can say, i can only say thank you to God, for the way he makes me feel like a princess with his love, joy. &i i can’t wait to hear, hug, & feel myself well inside with all the mushy love of a child at the end of this month.
maybe he can refill the tin..;)