Hello darling, up here with my evening glass of icefilled wine, after an afternoon of gospodarstwo domowe in the form of energetic housecleaning, baths included - Yuletide edition. So beyond the bit of hay tucked beneath a tablecloth, should a stranger wish to stay -- no need to panic, I'll simply provide fresh towels.
Oh sweetie, slide over in that narrow little bed tucked under the eaves, let me lie down beside you. That's how I've been picturing us the last couple of nights - where I've been picturing you, that is. I haven't been up in that room in ages, and have such fond vivid memories of it from girlhood
and now my imaginings of you & me
which weirdly I imagine my grandparents smiling at, however improbably, from their heavenly rafters, because love is love, and perhaps they would enjoy the irony, and the surprise of it - and it's all w rodzinie - a whole new twist on that - and I don't sense that eros is quite as hidebound in heaven as it is here
I don't remember my grandfather so well anymore, I was too young by the time he died (in the mid-1960s - he somewhere in his sixties, I maybe in second grade) to ever have a full sense of his true personality
but I could see him smiling privately and bemusedly, while my grandmother, ever the one for exuberant expression, might feign huge disapproval in the form of a dramatic scowl and pointed look -- but I then instantly see her bursting out, in an exasperated, entertained, delighted guffaw
if for no other reason than that I was her favorite granddaughter
did you know that dearest?
yes, it's true - she told me so herself
sleep tight tonight dearest
I'll think of you, & you'll think of me
and thank you up in heaven, for all these complex