I remember Grandma well.. her spirit to care.. her young loves.. her stories sung.. too personal to share.. example for her daughters three.. Catholic was her way.. walked her path in time.. remembering those days..
Wealth.. power and the church in Boston was her clan.. in her teens love came a young Sicilian man.. back in 1910.. around then women held with dad.. marry in your station.. protect what family had..
Teenage love came forth in passion.. as it does today.. a story beautiful of love no one dared to say.. firebrand in spirit Catherine of love belief.. fought for shorter skirts brought nuns at the Convent grief..
One nun would hold her smile when her mind recalled.. a time long ago a young girl in a special fall.. dreams remembered was her bounty.. dreams where what she had.. a woman free then left her family.. it was sad..
When a boy at home none knew of her small red jar.. written prose befitting.. young girl.. her love’s shining star.. maybe Grandma knew I listened when those words she read.. from her jar of memories.. young love is never dead..
Young folks all around my town.. speak world-changing ways.. familiar tone.. about the same as my younger days.. roads.. loads of science.. art.. life bright and true.. life time and once only.. unique.. young special you..
Thought.. ‘I learned some of ‘Nana’ and her youth.. 35 years after she passed on.. we shared things unknown to me.. the same type of things in our own times.. though close.. I would like to have had opportunity to speak with her and learn.. from her.. of when she was young’.. Peace Tony