savata

my grandmother's real name is not sophie.

dear sophie,

i am so sorry that i waited this long to ask to hear decades of stories, words you haven't used in years, memories you barely even remember: sitting on a bookshelf like an old scrapbook, cobwebs around the photographs of your thoughts. i am sorry i waited til now to memorize the exact color of your eyes, and each wrinkle set in to your silky skin. i apologize for waiting until the athritis in your bones was born to ask for your recipe to make chop suey. i cannot tell you how much i regret waiting seventeen years to ask you how to speak serbian, and what your childhood was like, and why your parents came to america. sweet sophie, savata--tell me why they changed your name. tell me so i can pass it on, so i won't forget, so no one will forget. savata, just know this: i am so, so, heartbreakingly sorry for taking you for granted until now.