Calluses
My Grandma caressed
my sleeping Grandfather's feet
as we sat in his hospital room after hours.
Without breaking motion,
she giggled and whispered to me about
how mean he was to her when they were children:
“Ever since,”
she went on,
“every day has felt like romantic apologies for first grade fights.”
As the respirator's song sped,
I watched her steady smile,
her hands staying within the smooth arches
between callused heel and toe.
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Other stories by Johnny Dantonio
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this is so tender and beautiful. I didn't expect this, it gave me new insight into something that could too easily be simply morbid/sad. Favorite.
Nice, Johnny. I like this bit of dialogue: "every day has felt like romantic apologies for first grade fights."
erm, tender piece on calluses. ;)
"romantic apologies for first grade fights." nice.
There's a morbid expectation at the end. And that is very satisfying.
A lovely expoloration of meaningful and gentle places which rest between the hard and harsh moments in a long life. Nice.
A touching description. A lifetime encapsulated in just a few words. Excellent. Fav.
Beautiful.