Yesterday was my grandma’s 84th birthday.
My boyfriend picked me up for dinner with flowers — but he said they weren’t for me. Then he drove to my grandmother’s house, handed her the flowers, and we took her out to dinner.
Seeing her smile GMH
In a crowded place with people rushing to get to where they’re going,
I sit at the sides with a cup of coffee in my hands,
seeing nothing but a sea of faces with different stories to tell:
some of them laughing with no care in the world,
some of them worn from crying over dying time.
In a crowded place with people brushing side by side,
I gaze at the oncoming colors blending well against each other,
seeing nothing but a mix of shades that give a sense of completeness:
some of them bright and grabbing attention,
some of them dull and growing dim.
In a crowded place with people keeping up with everyone else,
I watch souls pass by in different paces,
seeing nothing but a blur of someone that was once there:
some of them gone in big strides,
some of them gone in small uncertain steps.
In a crowded place with people holding fast to their companions,
I finally stand and join them in their never-ending march,
seeing nothing but the paths which we all shall go:
some of them crooked, with the intent to leave us be,
some of them clean, clear and pristine, with a glow that beckons,
In a crowded place,
I found the light,
and nothing else.