It took me 15-minutes to fall in love with her, she named me 'Cracker' and I called her 'Contrary', only because it rhymes with her name, not because she is, although maybe she once was, but I didn't know her then, I only know her now; now that she is rosy, twinkly-eyed pudding. I love every wrinkle, every thought and absence of thought, the memories of loss and the forgetting of why all days feel the same. Her identity unravels between daily chores and rituals of letting go, but not her love of a hearty chuckle, a hunk of good chocolate and airplanes. She worships airplanes—she lived through war and is grateful daily to the life lessons she earned because of it. The particulars of her treasures may grow foggy, but she will always remember the planes, as she settles into her place watching the sky...
like a hawk,
in the garden.