Old Enough To Forget

Today I got a job killing a mental illness
that kills my grandmother everyday. She was a teacher-
irony-
and drank her tea like some take their God.
She loved the ocean
and gambling nickels just enough
to come out even. When she was drunk
with divine intervention (she never touched alcohol)
she would toss her head back and laugh
at her winnings: a buck and some change
was enough to change the world to this woman.
She loved them until she was old enough to Forget.

She loved her husband
and he owned her, and it was a bond that lasted
just long enough for the disease
to eat the part of her brain
that made it impossible for her to realize
it was wrong to love a tyrant.

She loved my father, and his work, and his music,
and his children: she loved Us-the three of us,
two girls and a boy-Us
who crowded around a Christmas tree
to the sound of Grandmother's faint chuckle:
"It's wonderful to be here with the family."

She used to scratch my back, or tickle it,
until I fell heavily to sleep
on the pull-out couch I called Home
so many weekends as a kid. Her voice was raspy
and she chewed with her front teeth
but that was when she spoke
and ate at all.

On the day of my graduation, she came to me smiling,
like for a day we would all be able to live without her disease
(because if one of us has it, it's killing us all).
She said "It's wonderful to be here with the family,"-
she knew! she knew! It was Us, and it was Her
and she knew it all along-
"I just wish Taylor could be here."

And today
I got a job killing a disease
that's been killing me
since I was old enough
to Forget.

by Taylor Gould, age 19, Corinna, ME