Through Her Eyes

July 27, 2008
By Bethany Bogart, Deep River, CT

Imagine: the sun reflecting off
a flawlessly blue ocean,
under a sky so pure that it could
only have been imagined.

Envision: a child running happily at the beach,
leaving crushed sandcastles in her wake,
collecting sea shells in a brightly colored pail.

Picture: trees painted yellow, red, orange, and brown
swaying in the chilly fall breeze,
shedding their leaves,
that same blond-haired child running to collect them before they hit the ground.

Imagine: a young girl laying in bed,
her dad sitting beside her, book in hand,
whispering the words softly as she drifts away.

Envision: grandmother and her granddaughter
standing beside a table, rolling cookie
dough into balls ready to be made into
snicker-doodles and sugar cookies.

A slideshow of memories is being projected
through her eyes as she tells me of the
times she enjoyed as a child, the times she cherished,
this is what I saw through her eyes.


Picture: a funeral, a family gathered around a coffin
crying, and hugging each other, reassuring each other
that everything is going to be okay, that she's in a better place now.

Imagine: a cold gray gravestone resting
in the damp earth, "June Oldersaw Bogart"
etched into it's surface, it's significance is minimal
to others who didn't know her, to me it means the world.

Envision: a teenager, with blond hair, blue eyes,
reminiscing the days when she could see a fire in
the eyes of a stranger, everything was so vivid, so clear,
but now, everything she sees is dull, lifeless, dead.

RIP Nana.

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