Dear Grandma


It’s beautiful.

I found the tallit rolled up
on the bench of the loom,
a vibrant package
that makes your house
feel a little less empty
without you.

The sheet of fabric
unravels in my arms;
I feel the tiny bumps
of interwoven thread.

I imagine your careful fingers
sliding the strings about the loom,
slowly forming stripes
of turquoise, blue, and purple,
bright green in between.
The colors remind me of an ocean
with the waves and kelp,
pieces of sea glass
embedded in the shore.

I say the prayer;
clear Hebrew words hover
in the weaving room.
I kiss the shawl twice,
drape it over my shoulders.

I think about the last time
your warm arms wrapped around me.

Accompanying Photo: “Weaving Hands”, © J. Feist licensed under Creative Commons 2.0.
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