Poem 12. The Family We Choose

Before the virus
we gathered at my home
orphan islanders making our own family. Humpday board game nights
quarterly whiskey tastings
hurricane all nighters playing cards by candlelight, Cameron bedded down under the kitchen table, our feet all around him, keeping him safe, and feeling protected.

Thanksgivings
Christmas’
New Years’
Fourth of Julys…

It felt like the family of my youth

familiar faces dropping by unannounced
impromptu grilling
family friends
people we called our own.

And then there was no one.
Just a Gramma and a Grandson
trying to be a bigger family than we were.

Trying to adjust to our new
quiet smallness.
Trying to hold onto each other
be everything to each other.
It was hard for us both.

.

.

.

Yesterday, a knock on our door
brought an unexpected catch up visit
over tea and long remembrances.
It felt almost normal. 
It felt like home again.
It felt like family.

I must send notes
welcoming everyone back.

I must sign them
Ollie Ollie Oxen Free Free Free!

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