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Waving to Grandma

It was The Sound of Music playing on her dinosaur television,
It was the way she spoke about her childhood hometown with nostalgic reminisce,
It was the fact that she created and nurtured my love for back scratching,
It was her gullible nature and goofy grin,
It was the strength she possessed as her breasts were raided with cancer,
It was all the gridded notebooks she filled with her loopy, tall, condensed handwriting,
It was all the colorful, boisterous yarn she transformed into knitted creations,
That caused me to love her achingly
as she walked away into the airport gate,
glancing back at us one last time



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