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.

Inversely proportionate.

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.

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