The Wish

If everything is quiet, I can hear her voice if I concentrate hard enough.

I can remember having picnics with her in the back yard, eating Lebanon Bologna sandwiches. I remember her getting me ready for school on a cold winter’s day, singing “Button Up Your Overcoat." I remember her watching Jack LaLanne and trying to exercise along with him in our small living room. I remember her walking me to the school bus stop every morning. I remember listening with her to The Beatles’ “Help” on WARM (The Mighty 590) and hearing her say, “hey, they’ve finally done a good song.”

Unfortunately, I also remember the ambulance taking her away; it was the last time I ever saw her.

My mom died 40 years ago today. The memories are still there but obviously are not as strong as they used to be, and they tend to be increasingly grainy black and white images in my mind.

Still, I can see her every time I look in the mirror.

I will tell my kids everything I can remember about their grandmother if and when they ask about her.

I just wish she could have known Jack and Ruby; she would have loved them.