Thursday, January 24, 2013

A Bed in Oceanside

Something today, perhaps my morning poem by Ted Kooser, reminded me of visiting my Grami in Oceanside,CA when I was in my 20's.  My grandfather had passed away a couple years before and she lived in their condo by herself.  She was not my favorite person in the world growing up, too stern for my taste, but I wanted to have a chance to see her again before she passed from here. 

I paid for the trip and flew out by myself.  I felt decidedly grown up by doing that.  It was my first taste of solo freedom long-distance style.  I can remember being a bit scared.  It was only my second time in a plane.  Mostly I remember being excited, thrilled really, when the wheels of that plane finally tucked up under my butt and we were airborne.  

My Grami was a horrendous driver.  In her 80's she scared the beejesus out of me as she drove us back from San Diego to Oceanside along the freeway.  Thanks gawd for bumper to bumper, I'm pretty sure it saved my life that day.  Lest you think I lie, her way of stopping the car in the garage was to hit the back wall which bore an unmistakeable indentation in the shape of her car!  Eventually, I would just drive us where we needed to go.  That was better and we both survived. 

Mellowed with age, she was not the formidable and frightening woman I knew as a child.  That was good as part of my fear had been of her forcing me to clean and eat rhubarb sauce while on vacation the way she did when I was younger.  Our week mostly followed her routine with much of it being spent at a local priory for mass and volunteer work.  We watched TV and when it came time to turn in she insisted I sleep in her room in the other bed rather than use the pullout couch in the other bedroom where I would have been both more and less comfortable.  I couldn't sway her from that.  It seemed improtant so I did it.  For the first few days, it creeped me out to sleep in the bed where my Grampa had slept when he was alive.  But then I started to imagine being able to absorb some of his molecules and I rested easier. 


A Bed in Oceanside

she nuzzles the pillow
tries to blot out the soft snoring
from the bed next to her

instead rolls over
stares at the ceiling
counts tiles and thinks of Guadalupe

resting in the bed of her dead Grampy
was not her idea, never her idea
she wanted the pullout with
the kidney-killing metal bar
heart full of resentment, head full of no
she lies there

she focuses on her breath the way
the yogi taught her
in and out
in and out
innnnnnn
and oooooout

she lets go resentment, lets go snoring, lets go no
and in its place she inhales
she inhales evening dark and old lady air and dust motes
she inhales molecules expelled long ago
from that other person who slept here

those molecules inhaled work their way in
become part of her
and in some way it bothers her less
to sleep where he slept. 
it feels more than that
it just feels right

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