"To Micaela"

To Micaela

By

Evan Hackett

Nancy keeps asking

If I want

A picture of you

On your deathbed,

Dressed in your pink

Sweat suit.

I prefer my memory

Of you

In your Lazyboy

Watching the Lakers:

With Chick announcing,

The “jello is jigglin’."

If I try, I can still

Hear a faint

“Go Lakers” dangling

In the air.

I moved your swing

To the patio

By the pool.

Sometimes, at night,

I go and sit and swing

And hope for memories

To remind me of you.

We chat like

We used to, and

I try to catch you up

On the grand kids:

Christina is an

Architect in the city;

Jed is in college

On the East Coast.

We seldom talk.

I do not

Know why.

Melanie, who

Bears your name,

Is a fighter like you,

But instead of R.A.,

She battles A.L.L.

She would like

Rocking with you

In the Lazyboy

Or

Swinging with you

On the porch.

A magical  smile

And touch

Between generations.

What is this space

Between you and me?

I still swing in hopes

Of feeling you

Sitting next to me,

But am distracted by the bats,

Who skim the pool

In hopes of

A few mosquitoes.

After swimming laps,

I head in

To my recliner

And cheer on

The Dodgers, but Vin’s voice

Is too but a memory.

I wonder if

My youngest, Micaela,

Will understand

What it means

To be

The keeper

Of family memories.