by sophie

opened a pack of lifesavers; thinking about my grandmother who died last march and how little i knew her. i hardly know what she loved. i know she liked lifesavers and whitefish salad and chocolate. i know she used to play tennis. i know she loved anything with a leopard print. i don’t know how she met my grandfather whom i never met, who died when he was 40. i know she loved to shop at beale’s, to buy cheap jewelry that matched her cheap handbags that matched her outfits. i don’t know what books were her favorite, what music she loved. I don’t know how she met meyer, the deaf man who she lived with for eleven years, who was sometimes mean to my mother and i and to my grandmother, who died shortly after she did. she loved key lime pie. she loved coconut. she once brought a loaf of bread to us from florida, shaped like a cat.