She was so excited. Her chubby little 10 year old cheeks exploding in the
"Mimi" grin...
Tiny chicklet
"I'm gonna need braces" teeth on parade...
She was smiling....
This was what she picked out...
wrapped in newspaper....
A rusty ole word...
Peace....She couldn't have been prouder....
And her smile was infectious. And I knew then what peace was. My blonde haired grandaughter with the hippie soul....whispering in my cobwebbed hair.....
"It's for you, Mimi! Peace......"
On the day after New Year's I came home to the front door wide open. The door we haven't opened in 17 years. Strangers ring that bell.
And the rusty little letters on my porch... splayed in half...
"Must have been the wind" they told me....
But I knew....
It's the year of ghosts....
And they've barged right in....
rocking my peace and rearranging it....
Sometimes we have to remember,
even in chaos....
Peace is spelled the same....
