Winter Blue

Wickaninnish Waves in Winter Blue

We sat together,

my grandmother in her wheelchair,

I her most frequent visitor,

as I told her 

I was moving to the sea,

my heart's dream.

We both knew what this meant 

for her.

She gathered herself to speak,

and she was generous:

"You deserve this, Sherry,"

she told me.

"You've had such a hard time."

The next time I visited,

she had retreated into herself,

and lived in silence.

But when I told her of the eagles,

and the whales and the wild waves,

she smiled.

Traces of mixed

joy and sorrow,

reflecting on the years'

unfolding ~

my solace, always,

the silver, shining sea.

for Angie's Get Listed at Real Toads : a celebration or a milestone memory of a loved one. And I will share it in the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.