sometimes when you get to the heart of things you find a hole

today is my grandmother's birthday, not the one who gave me my name and my dad but my mom's mom who gave me that gold necklace with the butterfly and the recipe for those date things that i make every christmas. today was her day to share with the groundhogs.

she would have been 87 if she hadn't been in that car crash, off the road on the icy mountain and its so hard to remember that she's not here anymore, not not here but never here will never be here but in my mind in my heart in her recipes that i follow. i miss her even though there was so much inbetween us we were never really touching minds/thoughts/ideas. she was always on the other side of the table but she would be proud of me, always proud of me even when i wasn't a big deal even if it was just child fingers uneasy on piano keys.

i miss her as a puzzle piece, the space she filled, the way i would always take for granted that there would be birthday cards in the mail or random notes on feminine stationary and the perfume samples she would get from the lady at the drug store and always pass on to me. how she would always bring cookies or cabbage rolls whenever they'd visit but i never liked them, too old, too stale, not enough butter/eggs/sugar/flour. the relief after they'd leave, the den back for us to lounge in again.

but still i miss her, still i would love to find her birthday cards in the mail, her voice on the phone, telling everyone that i speak french/graduated from high school/university/university again. she'd be proud of me today.