You (Collage)

You were the one who took care of me while my mother worked. You taught me how to draw clouds and swimming swans. You held me on your lap. You came home from the hospital when I was three. You held the towel as I stepped dripping from the tub. You said, "Why bless your little heart." You called me on the phone and talked to me as if I mattered. You were not interested in learning secret codes with me. You were older, and there was something about your silver hair that set me thrumming. You never sang. You said once that you were leaving something in God's hands, and seemed so calm about it. You studied for the algebra exam with me and then finally gave up, skipping rocks down by the creek. You left the top two buttons of your shirts undone. You were sent away to school and wrote me letters. You helped me learn to ski, remember that day when we kept almost sitting down on the t-bar? You betrayed me and confessed and cried and cried. You had a beautiful singing voice and drove us all crazy by seeming not to care. You were the one I wanted to kiss. You thought that I would never learn to cook. You met me our first year in college. You took the art class that I was the nude model for. You sat at my table even though I was eating through a straw. You were the one who loved and left me. You were my roommate during the "you can if you want to" year. You warned me. You could hardly walk, towards the end.

(Thanks to the women of Poetry Thursday
and the folks over at the Creative Act/ Create-A-Thing-A-Day project
for their continuing inspiration.)