too much seafood, shop Ghiradelli Square,
and visit my grandma—to see just how
far she had slipped away toward
the underworld of dementia.
We went down the weekend before and it
was just as I imagined. I knew things
had taken a turn for the worse when Grandma
stood up in church and yelled, “I have
to go to the bathroom!” Flying relatively high on
the monster, I laughed like a lunatic all the way
home. Which made Mom mad and made me wonder:
Does insanity swim in our gene pool?
In One of Her Better Moments
Grandma drew me aside,
put one finger to creviced
lips and whispered,
Kristina, dear, I’ve got something
here I want you to have.
One tentative hand stretched
toward mine. Grandma’s eyes
sparkled, glass under rain.
My grandmother gave this to me
on my own 17th birthday.
It was a beautiful gold locket—24
karat, with an inlay of diamonds.
But the real treasure was inside.
That’s my wedding picture, there.
And my grandmother’s, there.
Both women wore ivory lace,
simplicity made lovely with a spray