PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Whenever I went to my great grandmother’s home, I would expect the same. Her front door was never locked, and anyone could enter the house and even rob everything if they wanted, because she would never notice. She’d never hear anything. My great grandmother had very serious ear issues, bound to yell and be yelled at all the time; and to play the piano only to imagine the music she made. And maybe she couldn’t hear, but she could see, talk, walk, think, just as good as a kid. She lived on her own, but was never alone. She did have many visitors. Some were family, some more were friends, and many others were people who were there for her necklaces but soon became friends. Jewelry stores and famous people came to her in search of a masterpiece necklace, they all knew she was the best around the place. Pearls were her absolute favorite, but Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald… they all made her spend her days and sleepless nights in making necklaces. She had done this for as long as she could remember, or as long as people say they remember. I remember… Ninety years old, her skin was all wrinkled and thin, sitting at a table she’d had adjusted for her short height and curved back, wearing and making necklaces nonstop. Every morning she would wake up early, take a shower, had her hair done, put makeup on, choose a necklace to wear and then find its matching outfit, instead of finding a matching necklace for her clothes. And all done by herself. My great grandmother had been doing this since her hair was plenty and dark, and now the few she had was pale white. She had a simple life, so simple she didn’t mind not getting out of her house. She didn’t see the need in doing so. Or even eating. She didn’t mind skipping meals, sometimes she even forgot to do so for a whole day. In fact, she didn’t mind anything other than her necklaces. Or maybe she did. I think there was this only one thing: who she loved. Whenever I went to my great grandmother’s home, I would leave with a new necklace on. One day she stopped breathing, and her people stopped getting the best necklaces they’ve ever had. Now necklaces mean to me my great grandmother, and she means a lot to me.