Cold, cement steps with an
Equally cold railing attached.
Long breaths as I climb the them
Slowly, carefully in
My winter boots.
Open the door,
Smells of grandma’s Italian sauce.
Old Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra songs
Play in the background.
It is warm, small, yet inviting.
The scent of light perfume
As my grandma hugs me tightly.
A feeling of being safe,
It’s the safest spot in the world.
Singing along with the music,
Loud voices chatter about
The latest family gossip.
There is a clock that chimes each hour,
Like a diligent soldier standing guard.
Football game in the other room.
Men are shouting at the ref’s call.
Everyone sits down to eat.
Food is love.
Food is family.
Lots of love and warmth,
Security, safety.
Some of the only consistency
In my life.
Happiness to be
near my beautiful grandmother.
Comfort.
Boisterous and loud talking, laughing,
Having fun with each other.
I don’t want to leave.
Remnants of my childhood
Linger there.
My happiest days
As a child were spent there.
Pain of the loss
of days gone by.
A Leonine Voice 