all of a sudden

like the paper thin skin of her hands, my grandmother’s eyes are almost transparent. i watch as they frantically dart around the room, desperate to focus and meet my gaze. they are pleading; begging me to understand a lifetime of tiny memories, of regrets, of little vignettes frozen in time.

she is scared.

the fog of confusion lifts slowly. she wants to be clear; wants me to hear her, “there are things in this life that don’t make sense at the time. and then years later you meet someone who can understand and know what you are going through. and then all of a sudden, one day it makes sense.”

i understand everything and nothing all at once.

eighty one years of love, of loss, of mistakes. the moments wash over her like the tide.

she asks me to adjust her pillow.