OctPoWriMo #27: Drive
The young ones would ride in the back seat fearing for their lives.
The old kids would learn how to drive in the front seat with you.
I would panic at the thought of my cousins out on the road,
but you would calmly teach the drivers who were brand new.
We would sit in the back seat of your large van completely carefree,
listening to music, playing with cousins, and the foster kids that you raised.
My first memories of you were on the back roads in your car.
You were always out helping your town which always left me amazed.
And then it was my turn behind the wheel and you taught me how to drive.
I crawled slowly along the back roads because I drove without a permit,
And you would tell me that it would be okay and that I would feel confident over time.
You would tell me old stories as we passed by places where you used to visit.
OctPoWriMo #28: They No Longer Call On The Phone
You would always say that one day
all of your grandkids would grow up
and be too old to call their grandma anymore,
and that they wouldn’t stop by,
stay the night, or even say hi on occasion.
Many of them would always say
that they would never stop visiting
But you knew, in your heart,
that what they were saying wouldn’t be the case.
And then it happened without warning.
Many of those same kids
now in high school or off to college
don’t come by your house anymore.
They no longer call on the phone.
Jazzed About Stuff 