Dreams with Grandma Jane

Dreams With Grandma Jane
Meredith Ann Henrich

The ’68 Thunderbird races down the West Texas farm and market roads.
Weaving from lane to lane, her Texas-sized stories swirl around me
like Benson and Hedges smoke.

With a cigarette in her hand, she waves to the few cars that pass. “You wave to people
out here, that’s what you do. Never know when you’ll see someone again.
You could get stuck out here for days.”

“Everything’s bigger here,” she says, eating garlic pickles and burnt grilled cheese on Texas toast, tossing her cigarette out the window.  She was searching for grandpa’s collection
of carved wooden heads and giant belt buckles, near the Marfa Ghost Lights.
“You know, the mysterious lights in the middle of the desert that no one can explain.
You know … the UFO lights,” she said, lighting another cigarette.

“Did I ever tell you about the ten-foot rattler your Grandpa shot under the camper step?”
Or, “the time the scorpion bit me on the neck?” Or, “the jackrabbit dressed like Poncho Villa
hitchhiking to Mexico for a warm Coke?”

“Yes, Grandma,” I say, smiling. “Tell me again.”

about the author
Meredith loves wine, National Parks and unleashing her inner cowgirl. Her poetry has been read on WYSO’s Conrad’s Corner, and has also found its way into Mock Turtle Zine.

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