Millie & My Grandmother

Millie & My Grandmother

 

Millie was the crazy lady

Who lived next door.

Dirty and smelly.

Slippers all beat up.

Two pairs of slacks.

At least three blouses.

Greasy hair hanging braids.

 

We were just dumb kids,

So Gramma would warn us to be nice to Millie.

Say hello when Millie said hello.

Help her with her groceries.

And pretend her smell

Didn’t gross us out.

 

Gramma said, “Millie was pretty once.”

Young and always dressed “just so.”

 

Millie would hobble into our backyard,

And struggle up the back steps,

For a non-sense chat with Gramma.

Millie would mumble and ramble,

And chuckle to herself jokes

Gramma never understood.

 

And when she finally left

Gramma would fuss.

Millie left her grime and stink

All over Gramma’s nice clean house.

But Gramma never turned Millie away.

Never didn’t offer tea or juice or cookies.

 

Maybe because Gramma had such a big heart.

Maybe because Gramma was a good Catholic.

Maybe because when Millie was lucid and clear-eyed

She’d tell Gramma again

The story of her baby girl.

The little white casket.

The church and the flowers.

 

Millie was pretty once,

Young and always dressed just so.