As I reflect on the
thirty years of life
my grandmother, I am flooded
down the street
through the snow in Richmond
with you and mom,
your faces that followed,
how you could not only

your card playing face (be it spades,
hearts, or what have you) was
almost unreadable, and the secret
was all in your “innocent” act,
the ritual importance of the crossword,
enjoying the little things and the people
that surrounded you,

how many times we lovingly called you
you still acted surprised.