Grandma taught me love is a back porch in the middle of summer
Sitting on floral cushions, spotting the cardinals out back on the birdfeeder.
Grandma taught me love is misspelling the word barbeque during Grandparent’s Day,
and laughing about the mistake for an extra 10 years.
Grandma taught me to eat that cinnamon cookie shaped like a spoon,
And to not apologize when spilling sauce on white table cloths at Orchids.
Perhaps love is a nightly call from a few streets away
Perhaps love is root beer floats and cookies from the butcher
Perhaps love is whispering “your dad is so good to me” from Bethesda beds
Perhaps love is keeping her husband’s voice on tape all those years
Perhaps love is waving from the front door until our car is out of sight
Perhaps love is sharing joy with all of those you meet.
We will miss you always.
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