by Chris Burton
You would have been 95 today.
You would have loved your great grandsons. They have your humor and your courage.
It’s been seven and a half years since you got promoted. I still randomly weep for you.
The tears have become more joyful recently.
I thought about trying to explain to you why I’m vegan now.
I think about how much I wanted to tell you I got in to a doctoral program. Same degree as grandpa.
And whenever I get really upset, and think about how you should still be here (Follett women live long, I’ve been told), I think about how tired you were. How much you’ve earned your rest.
I dreamed you once. You were young and still beautiful. With long ponytails and joy. So much joy. It’s all that comforts me.