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literature

He Came to Me in the Grocery Store

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betwixtthepages

Published: May 23, 2014

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Literature Text

At the end of aisle thirteen
surrounded by tin foil,
saran wrap, parchment paper
and Ziploc bags--
everything required
to make a life filled to bursting
with overdue student loan bills
and bimonthly paychecks
that can't be saved
just a little easier to handle--
he appeared.

"What are you doing here?"
I asked him,
the floor beneath my knees
cold and unyielding
through denim jeans.

"Tell your mom hello,"
he replied instead,
smiling,
and then I blinked
and he must have walked away,
though I could almost swear
he faded out.

When I opened my eyes,
the alarm was ringing
and the husband was asleep
by my side.

"Hi, grandpa,"
I thought
as I drug myself
from warm covers and a heavy arm.
"You look good."

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BeautyInRawHumanity

I had a dream this morning that my grandpa--who's been dead about a year now--came to visit me at the store I work at. In the dream, I knew he was gone--but it was nice to see him the way he was before the stroke.