GRAMMY IN THE HALLWAY

Cynthia was never around to see

what I was

Doing, but Grammy, it seemed, was

there

all the time.

She would meet me in the hallway,

sure

she had smelled something.

Gayle, have you been smoking?”

No, Grammy,” I would say,

or

Gayle, have you been playing

in the dirt?”

No, Grammy.”

Not far from the truth I was

playing with children who

were not socially

acceptable.

I didn’t fit in with most kids.

I couldn’t play “Movie Stars”

because

I couldn’t remember any

movie stars’ names.

I could jump rope,

but I couldn’t remember the rhymes.

I was having trouble in school.

I was not a teacher’s favorite.

I was often sick.

I was anemic.

Had low blood pressure and for hyperactivity I

was given Phenobarbital.

I thought something

was wrong with me.

Everyone was trying to help but

there was a lot

I didn’t want

them to notice.

No one could see how I felt inside –

Grammy noticed something was

wrong, but she

continued to ask me

the wrong questions,

Gayle have you been smoking?”

Have you been playing in the dirt?”

Bluebird (June ‘17) reflects on those days, “Grammy was my great-grandmother and had very religious old-school ways of thinking.  She would have liked me to be a different child, but I was not the sweet endearing child of her dreams.  Her other question is whether I was playing in the mud.  Bluebird can be reached at: gaylebluebird1943@gmail.com.’ “

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