I wish I knew my grandmother.
She died when I was 13,
but in a cruel twist,
As I came into the years of complex thought and abstract thinking,
She slipped out of it.
She sang when she was younger,
I play the violin as I’m older.
One night I played my violin for her,
The day before District Orchestra auditions
My first audition.
My first concrete musical goal
She died the day after.
There are so many conversations I want to have with her.
And I’m sure there was plenty she wanted to discuss with me and my cousins.
I “knew” my grandmother.
We existed on Earth for about 13 years together.
But she didn’t know me and I didn’t know her.