Indietro

Malova Daria


A confession of a granddaughter (One of a kind beast)

A confession of a granddaughter (One of a kind beast). 

 

I’ve gotten multiple pieces of advice on how to write this poem.

 

– Add more emotions!

– Take out a piece of paper and write down whatever…

– Use humor. 

 

I am not sure how to write a good poem about guilt. But I'll try.

 

On the 1st of November 1949 you were not even months old. More like minutes and seconds, filling up your lungs with frightened screams. On the 1st of November 1949 I was minus 74 years, 5 months, 23 days old.

 

You are 75 now. I am turning 20 soon.

 

The only thing connecting us is blood, those 8 years of not seeing you passed with no regret or sadness.‘Pas de tristesse’ you would say in your awkward French. Those 8 years passed as they meant to do: quickly, intensively, interestingly. The only thing that kept you in my life were phone calls, and even those - rarely.

 

Someone could say: Due to some family issues you have not seen her for over 8 years now. Time flies.

 

I would say: Time and memory pushed you out of my life like one would a broken chair on the side of the road. Time flies.

 

When it occurred to me that you are coming to Luxembourg in April I was not happy. I was not overfilled with joy, nor was I excited to the chills. The only thing crossing my mind: “Shit. Now I have to keep my room clean”. And one more actually: “Shit. She is a real person”.

 

I did feel guilty at times, when during our monthly call you told me how you missed me terribly. And over and over again I would lie to you: “I miss you terribly too”. In fact, I did not. I missed you only a little bit.

 

When it occurred to me that you are coming to Luxembourg in April I was not happy. But I did try to collect those limited memories of my 12-year-old self that I had of you. Ice cream in Gorky park. The New Year’s. Your chicken broth and white ribbons of my hair. And how you taught me math: me crying, you screaming. Some memories lingered, some flowed through my hands like water.

 

And even then, having a few clasped in my arms I couldn’t recall your face, your touch, your voice. You disappeared into those 8 years and I never thought of a reason to find you back.

 

20 – 8 = 12 (the math lessons proved to be useful). 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 




Invialo: 22:05 Thu, 7 March 2024 by : Malova Daria age : 19