Confessions of a Transplant: Awakening

As the day begins, as I ready for jury duty and the dentist. In the mirror I see my grandmother’s shoulders, her bosom, her posture. I see my first true memory of her. Beneath my top layer of brown hair is white.

A few weeks ago in Mexico a Slovenian poet, a lovely and learned man, said to me above the noise of dinner, “Do you know you are three people at the same time?” He beamed.

And I said, “Oh thank you for noticing.” I blushed.

Some have asked me: what did he mean?

One asked me: what are they’re names?

Now I will say that it does not matter, I’ve seen my grandmother in the mirror.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s