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Writer's picturedreaming of lulu

grape gum in hospital room #382


blueberries bloom when winter is gone

“but not right after,” my grandpa tells me.


"warmth has to find them again," he tells me,

through a crooked smile while he’s watering the bushes at dusk


i ask if there’s any left and the birds have ‘bout took care of that. seasons gone too warm


"what month is it?" he asks me.


it’s august

august i tell him


but what i’m learning, you see


is

phones fall off the hook, and people leave

houses get dirty, and people leave

cars get old, and people leave


and bumpers get dents

it’s just what they’re for


but it’s august

august i say


days pass by, and blueberries go bad

shoes get creased, and some bathrooms just stink


your oldest friends get fired and eleven-year-olds hate how you do their hair

years kick you in the head and lovers forget you were ever theirs


and trees get cut down

and the swing tumbles right down with it

and your old house is rottin' away like it never existed


the past has a way of haunting

meaner than a demon on a Tuesday

in the back of a bar where you’re not supposed to be

handing your pride in with a scream


watched my grandpa water every bush in the front yard

he’s out there every day

when the sun rises till the sun goes down


and if you wait up long enough at night

you’ll see, i’m right

that life will be alright

just give it time


because every summer blueberries come back

when it’s not too cold and not too hot

fruit grows back


you meet a new lover, and you find common ground with your mother

your bumper gets fixed, and you realize your shoes are just rubber

friends find new jobs, and your old house turns into another


maybe even get a maid to clean that dirty ole house


but still don’t answer that damn phone


and eleven-year-olds will never like their hair



some things never change

but most things do.


every year

if you make it back down highway 165

past the curves and past your fate

you’ll find blueberries


and me

just sitting under the pine trees

forgetting what it means to need anything but


my family.



["grape gum in hospital room #382" was written while I sat in the waiting room of Cabrini hospital with most of my family while my grandmother had surgery. She has been fighting breast cancer since Thanksgiving of last year. As I sat there, I thought about all that had gone wrong in my family's life and mine, and it made me think of my papa's blueberries. Blueberries are perennials, they'll grow back every year if in the right environment.


My baby niece Millie was on what must have been her 6th piece of grape gum since 7am, and my entire family was sitting near, watching her and laughing. Love filled that whole waiting room. Just like that blueberry bush, I saw how the fruit of our lives grows back.


Mawmaw Posey's surgery went well. We received a call from the doctor just a few days ago telling us the lymph node test was negative. Continued prayers and thoughts for my Mawmaw and my family are greatly appreciated.


"back down south" was posted near Mawmaw's diagnosis. Lots has changed, bad has happened, but good has found its way right back. Time and time again, I've watched life get better.


Hug your people tight, and remember, life isn't a linear path. It never was supposed to be.


- Lulu]



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