Born On the Same Day

Grandpa and his sister, Aunt Jay, born on the same day — not twins, yet they departed the earth’s way within days of each other. Today is Grandpa’s birthday — how many years I don’t know. He left his body in his seventies and it’s been so and so many years ago. Aunt Jay, I remember her farm, her kids I knew later in their lives — the stories they would give, precious about my mom and her twin, sitting pretty, as a play they would spin. Mom tells me today, on a call, “It’s my daddy’s birthday,” and all. The years melt away trespasses and tears, kin imperfect, but loved above all. I remember Aunt Jay, in passing, but Grandpa is Grandpa — mine. He loved my daughter when she was nine. One time she sat upon his lap, his heart melted, mine too — a sign also of his love for me. Grandpa carried tobacco in his cheeks, helped in chores for the people on his street. I’d see him once, twice a year — memories are dear. He’d be up on a ladder painting his house, on the porch chatting it up with mama’s spouse or watching a small t.v. and handing us kids a silver dollar — no one was watching, as if he was Santa. Well...he acted the part. 5/8/2020