Mostly I hope they remember feelings of me, and that they are positive. . .funny would work. I'd like to think that family would have a few good memories.
I wrote this a few months ago:
How I Remember
I remember:
shelling corn on the back porch
with the old mule standing
on the other side of the fence
between his salt block and her flowers.
I remember:
the little t-shaped old house
had rooms of mystery shut off
from the sitting room, well known,
and the dark, dank kitchen behind.
I remember:
wooden rocking chairs sitting by
the old wood burning stove,
and a cot piled up high with quilts,
floral curtains, and a ratty screendoor.
I remember:
a soot-stained old brick fireplace
next to black iron pots and pans,
a handpump with enamel pan,
and always Oreos on the mantle.
I remember:
big old safety pins on a worn apron bib,
and small print fabric made into
sleeveless shifts worn below the knee.
And a sweater over all when cool.
I remember:
hair pulled back and pinned in a bun
old fashioned even then,
and the sweet smell of a day's hard work
mixed with feminine talcum powder.
I remember:
a small woman who seemed old at 40,
and other than the hairs of her head
not a single change to be noted
in the next 30 years.
I remember:
Great-aunt Julia fondly as comfort, love,
simplicity, and grace, and as my years
add up, if my greats remember me as "old"
in the same way, I will be blessed.
