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Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house 
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
And hand me Grampa’s old transistor radio
Covered in leather with glorious knobs
That brought me the glorious music of
The Beatles
While I played very carefully with 
Her precious dog collection 
Some tiny, some large
Hand blown glass or wooden carved
She promised it would be mine one day
I glance at where it hangs today 
On my wall and smile 
They thought they could cheat me out of it 
But somehow Veronica won from beyond the grave
With a mighty flap of her shimmering wings
Slapping them across their vengeful, conniving faces
And it is mine

Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house 
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
Her comfy living room filled with the beauty 
Of stuffed antique chairs
Lit with pretty cranberry glass lamps
Crowned with fringed lampshades
On little marble-topped gilded tables 
Next to the kitchen where the grownups crowded
To gossip about aunts, uncles and cousins 
Thinking I wouldn’t understand 
They had a lot to catch up on since last we were there
The auntie who was schizophrenic
The other who had exciting explanations about her absent husband 
Whispers when Irish whiskey was mentioned at talk of my uncle and something called Bushmills
While my mother sat and preened in her professing of our family’s perfection

Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house 
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
The road trip to Massachusetts from Virginia 
Was a long one in our crowded station wagon
And started at McDonalds for breakfast 
I always looked forward to that
Sitting on the coolness of the red and white tile benches
Built along the outside of McD’s
They didn’t even have indoor restaurants back then

Further on up the road 
Us four kids traveling in the crowded back seats
Playing car games and card games
Eying the picnic basket 
Filled with sandwiches, pickles, chips and juice
And apples, oranges and bananas 
But no cookies or candy
Mother didn’t believe in that 
Running around rest stops, stopping for more gas
Sleeping until we got there, tumbling out of the car to run to Gramma and Grampa
Like a litter of exuberant puppies 
And were met by Farmer Koski who had walked out his back door
Picked us a bushel of his best fresh corn cobs when he saw our car driving down the forest dirt road to Gramma and Grampas’s big red farmhouse
Named Straw Hollow
I remember sitting on my Grampa’s lap across from the huge stone fireplace 
It was the safest, happiest place in my life
We lost Grampa when they lived there

They had a ginger tabby named Tiger Lily
Who had to be renamed Tiger Louie when they realized their mistake
I’ll never forget the sound of my Gramma’s grief-stricken protests and cries
My mother answered Gramma’s bedroom door and I saw Gramma clinging to my aunt
My eyes asking my mother what was wrong
She said Tiger Louie was lost and that’s why Gramma was crying
It took me many years to realize that’s the day my Grampa died

Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house 
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it where
Aunt Aggie and Uncle Leon sat there
Big smiles, warm eyes, Uncle Leon’s cigars
Their infectious joy in life was to laugh 
And have fun watching as we did too
Adirondack chairs with big puffy cushions 
Smelling slightly musty 
Being kept in the backyard all summer 
Eating tomatoes that tasted as though kissed by heaven 
And little cucumbers too
Perfect, splashed with crystal water
From the hose

Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house 
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it
So I can ask her all my questions 
About why my parents married 
Did she notice how they treated me 
The way Auntie Helen did
And so I can hold her crooked, shaking hands 
So like my own 
And apologize for how I hurt her feelings while a runaway teenage girl
Who wound up just down the street from her house 
All she wanted was for me to come see her
And to also apologize for years later 
That I exhaustedly said, ”No, I really can’t”
Amidst her helpless, desperate litany 
Sitting in her wheelchair, lost in her misery
Begging, “Can you please help me?”

Won’t you please take me back
To the brown couch at my Gramma’s house 
With the big gold-framed antique mirror over it

Just don’t let me look into it
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