(about 1992)
He passed on a few years back,
He passed on a few years back,
but left me vivid long-ago memories
of rainy-day Washington.
All those times
when he was still alive.
I remember clear as yesterday his chair-
comfortable to all who chose it, even though
it was old, and green, and textured
with Grandpa's own shape in its depths.
By his chair, a varnished wooden stand
ceaselessly held a can of salty peanuts on its top
and was across the 4-cornered room from the T.V.
which told of current events,
issues that mean nothing now-
just a bunch or more words
to be added to all the "I remembers"
of get-togethers and holidays in Everett.
Those "I remembers" shared between me and the cousins
hold what I remember most about
Grandpa's chair
and his peanuts... The 'peanut games.'
Maybe it is me, or Jessen, if it is his turn
to complete the dangerous quest.
The coast is clear (Grandpa's back toward us )
as our curious eyes peek around the corner
from the kitchen,
almost reaching for the salty treat.
As if on cue, both feet race each other
to the destination
met already by our eyes.
Greasy kid-fingers reach into the round can
and dig and cling to peanuts
while the hinges of Grandpa's rotating chair
bring him to face our direction again.
He pretends to be angry and doesn't smile, and we think
maybe he is angry, except for the sparkle in his eyes.
Kid-fingers place sweaty peanuts in his big hand
and my mouth opens as he drops them onto my tongue
with the sparkle still in his eyes just as it was earlier
when he let me steer the green tractor
and I ran over a cow pie.
