my Oma

Sometimes I just miss my Oma. We didn't see her more than once or twice a year, but every time we did, it was SO special. She died four years ago. This is what I wrote at that time to remember her. Some of you might not understand it all, but my family knows just what I'm talking about. :)

Miles and miles

and we finally see it—

the Danvers tower,

Oma’s elevator.

We file out,

push the doorbell

and listen.

Footsteps…

A rush of greetings in a line.

Hugging,

Kissing her soft, pillowy cheeks.

She welcomes us

with a wide smile, open arms.

The vacation begins here—

Ah, the warm, sweet aromas,

Freshly baked bread,

Bubbling dumplings,

Thick coffee.

What expected surprises

planted throughout the house—

Potato chips in the tin can,

Pop in the basement fridge,

Chocolates in the glass Christmas tree,

Candies in the front living room.

Everything in perfect order

as we set our bags down.

They call us to dinner.

They fill us with delectable foods.

They fill us with German talk.

What are they saying?

They fill us with stories—

About good times,

About war times,

About hard times.

Stories we will remember

and pass on.

A dog’s bark interrupts.

“Shut up, Lady!” she says.

And Lady shuts up.

They excuse us from dinner.

They talk for another hour,

then labor over dishes.

For us girls, it is downstairs

to endless possibilities of play.

Playing restaurant at the bar,

Walking straggly-haired dolls in the stroller with beads,

Turning on their fireplace,

Playing house in the utility room,

Snooping under the too-tinselly Christmas tree.

Boredom never comes,

but when a lull does,

there is always more food.

After dishes are done,

she asks if we want ice cream.

As if we are hungry.

Blueberries and whipped cream,

Chocolate cupcakes topped and filled with cream,

Gray hazelnut cookies,

Or do we want polka?

Perhaps some hymns on the accordion?

She works hard to accommodate us;

She houses us all.

Cool, crisp sheets,

Fluffy pillows, soft towels that never get you dry.

We are royalty there.

What sadness on that morning

we have to part.

We will miss her smile.

The twinkle in her eyes,

Her servant attitude,

Her strong drive to live life.

We miss her already

as she waves goodbye

Until she’s no longer in sight.

But we will see her again

on that blissful day.

She’ll welcome us again

with open arms.