almond eyes

Written by: Maya Kaabour

Grandma with the almond eyes
Needed a seat on the metro
On a warm Wednesday
Afternoon-
I stood up and guided 
Her to mine
As she smiled at me
With whatever was left
Of her eighty-eight
Year old teeth
And although I am
Usually the last one in line
When it comes to
Doing what’s right-
I still felt like
I owed her a lot.
This grandma could be
The cute little
Baby girl whose 
Two toothed smile
And big brown eyes
Caused my
Great grand parents to
Decide they wanted 
To have a child.
She could be 
The woman who
Made the vase 
That was set on
A table in a cafe
And triggered a conversation
Between my parents
On their first
Date.
Or her husband could be
The man who left that
Banana peel on 
The floor somewhere
In Rainy Beirut 
During the 1970’s
Hence causing my
Dad to slip into
Mother’s arms. 
She could be
The person who
Sold my father the 
Rose he gave mother
On Valentine’s Day.
She could be
The uttermost reason
For my existence.
Or she could be some
Random old lady-
I still gave her my seat anyway.