Ruth Gray ’12
Last night I dreamt my great aunt called us,
I don’t know why
She wanted to talk to me about the past year and her day
I wandered through the conversation
She talked about how she used to needlepoint seat cushions and bake cookies:
Gum drops, molasses, chocolate chip, lemon, peanut butter
At some point in the conversation she forgot.
The woman who had always remembered
Birthdays, anniversaries, dates, times, places
But just this once she forgot
Her arthritis crippled hand fumbled around in her pocket
As if she could find the answer there
She didn’t find it
She told me about the war
When they landed on the beach
Dead bodies strewn about, the living crying out for help
She told me how one night she decided that she would
Rather sleep in her bed than lie low in the basement
And on the off chance that the building was bombed
She would rather die in her own bed. Thank you very much.
And then the conversation was over
As abruptly as it had started
She hung up her rotary phone
As did I
And fell back to sleep.