Saturday, September 21, 2019

Saving Love: for Nana



Saving Love
for Nana

"Precious treasure and oil are in a wise man’s dwelling,
but a foolish man devours it." – Proverbs 21: 20

I would sneak in there because I wasn’t supposed to,
At least it seemed that way to a me, a child: the room
Your grandparents slept in, where all their stuff was.
It had a certain darkness and hiddenness, the secret
Adult world kids no nothing about, so hold in awe.
It sat on her dresser, like a treasure chest, holding
Her jewelry, but I didn’t seek the treasure in stones
Or precious metals. What I sought was the little key,
That when turned broke the silence with little clicks
As it turned winding the notes of its music inside.
I would wind and wind, and not let any note escape,
Mostly because I didn’t want to get caught, and she
Might hear if I let some go. She couldn’t ever prove
It was me, if she never caught me, and she never did.
The last few clicks were always the hardest to conceal,
Tighter and louder, letting me know I was near done.
I’d close the lid, leaving the music there inside for her
To find. I don’t know when I first did it, but I always
Would sneak in there when we visited and wind it.
I don’t even remember when the secret became
A talked about thing, with me never owning up to it,
And her never coming right out and accusing me,
But each knowing, heart to heart what it was.
You see, she would save it, opening her jewelry box,
Only for a second, treasuring the captured notes,
Her notes, like they were from me to her, erasing
The miles and the time between us, one note
At a time. They say that a melody is made up of
Different notes played in sequence, but the song
She heard meant more, played one note at a time,
Stretching it out for as long as she could, saving
Each treasured note and what it meant. I hope
There weren’t many times when she would open
Silence, but I’m sure there were. The truth in the
Silence is all too true of Grandparents, and there
Just never being enough time to visit enough.
Love like that knows no such thing as enough,
Only what is. You learn such truth as you get older
Because you’ve lost enough to see it differently
And value each moment more. Like I’m not sure
When I started doing it, I’m also not sure when,
Upon learning that she saved the music, I came
To know what it meant, but I can’t think of any
More important lesson for her to teach me
Now that I know: There just aren’t enough ways
In this world for us to show our love to each other,
But when we find one it’s worth doing and saving.
I wish I had turned that key more times in these
Last few years. I wish I could’ve given her more
To save. I wish I could let her know I valued love
As much as she did. But I will never wind nor
Hear a music box again without remembering
The precious treasure she has given to me.

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