How Can This Be

My granddaughter Cali is a junior. How can this be? Two seconds ago her mother was a junior. I remember it as well as I remember anything else. Maybe better. Life tromps past me, hurling me into space, Throwing me into walls, bloodying my toes. Turning me into a hag or a crone. I never know which one to be on which day But I recognize they both have seriously great attributes. I look into a mirror Not recognizing myself Expecting to see me at seventeen. Which was fifty-one years ago Luckily, I married my boyfriend of seventeen And he has never seen me get a day older.