Canyon Lake
The poet reminisces about the idyllic holidays spent with his ‘Grammy’ and ‘Grampy’ at Canyon Lake. But after their death, the poet feels his childhood slip through his ‘fingers like sand.’
Grammy and Grampy
As we called them
Resided in a serene Texas suburb
A long drive from the big and flashy city we lived in
The sound of an owl hoot echoed for miles
Deer and Doe roamed the land blissfully
Their house directly faced the beautiful blue body of water
Known as Canyon Lake
I loved Grampy dearly
But my relationship and connection with Grammy was special
Her hugs were as warm as blankets
Her voice was as soothing as honey in tea
Grammy would visit me before bed
Sitting by my bed and held my hand until I fell asleep
So the last thing I felt was the warm and loving touch of her hands
Even as I grew older and felt less deserving of this type of affection
She never waivered
We would visit them routinely for various holidays
Arriving with excitement
Leaving with sorrow
But always expecting to see them again
Never knowing one time would be our last
It all happened so fast
They moved into a nearby retirement home
Their house that I loved and cherished was sold without warning
And after months of illness
Grampy died
Grammy now lived alone and a long drive away
But was always a phone call away
Even if we didn't talk every day
The knowledge of her being there was enough to get me through the day
One day, I felt the strong urge to call her and check-in
But I never did
I clung to my blind and stubborn belief that she would always be there
She died the next day
I never knew the last time was the last time
I would never be able to feel her hugs
Hear her soothing voice
Hold her warm hands
All of a sudden, I felt my childhood slip through my fingers like sand
We recently went back to scatter their ashes
It was our first time back since we visited them last
Their house had new owners
The animals that once frolicked were nowhere to be seen
I stood in front of the now dreadfully dark dam
Known as Canyon Lake
