beep, beep the chair lift warns us out of the way as granny rides slowly down the fifteen white-carpeted stairs past the picture frames filled with memories of earlier days; we have all grown older. in the kitchen grandpa rattles through the cupboard looking for baking sheets for the cinnamon rolls do you want cantaloupe…

when we are young we think we have the power to change the world when we grow older we find we lack the power to change ourselves the road to hell would be paved with disappointed idealists were it not for the grace inbetween

i can’t forget the shiny-brights snug in their tissue-paper beds in the flower-patterned cardboard box bright magenta, sky blue, silver-glittered each emerged from its wrappings brilliant beneath the tarnish of age purple grapes, green pine cones, rainbow sunbursts, carnival swirls they all had stories; granny remembered each one