“Grandma, I don’t know how to say this.”
Sunshine, just go ahead and say it.
“I mean, I love Grandpa, but…
Why did you marry him?”
I glanced over at my husband,
|December 1972, our wedding day|
nearly asleep in the rocker.
His face was flushed
from the heat,
and his graying hair
looked almost silver.
Sunshine looked at him, long
and hard. “He has a big tummy.”
Why, yes, Grandpa is fat.
“Oh, Grandma! Mommy said
we can’t say that
he is fat!”
It’s okay, he already knows it.
It came to me that Sunshine
had never known us
as we were, when we met
and fell in love.
So I told her how young we were, how his hair
|Just out of college. So young.|
was black and curly, and he was thin then.
I told her how my hair was so long that
it came to my waist.
I told her how we met and then
|Oh, the day of hot-pants!|
Sunshine looked back and forth at us.
Long and hard.
She gave up.
“Okay, Grandma. If you say so.”