Stone Soup

Where young artists paint the world with words

The international magazine of stories, poems, and art by young writers and artists. Published continuously since 1973.

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Grandma

I saw a hot air balloon this morning
And immediately thought of you

Every time I am on the hill
I yell “Hi Grandma!”
As loud as I can

I look at the ancient hilltop tree
How its branch is pointing
To all the land you loved

I look at the vineyards
And I remember
How much you treasured them

When I climb the hill
I still remember
Scattering your ashes
How they blew on me in the wind
And I didn’t brush them off

I think of you quilting
Even in intensive care
When it was hard for you to breathe
And when you wanted off life support
But stayed alive until we were ready

I remember playing cards
Listening to classical music and
Spending Christmas mornings with you

Now I can listen to your voice
On the life story tape
And sleep under your quilt
Whenever I want
But that is still nothing
Compared to your love for me

Grandma Mark Roberts
Mark Roberts, 10
Windsor, California