#ProsePoem

My Grandma´s Blanket

My grandma´s blanket is to me the most priced possession I own. Since the day I was born, and ‘til the end of days, I guess, this blanket will be with me through thick and thin. It remains by my side at nights and stares back at day time demanding attention. My grandma and I have been so close and since I can remember, she is my inspiration. Her essence, though intangible, fills me with hope and coziness. In my hardest moments, when I am about to give up on myself, there she is cheering me up. Even in life decisions her opinion and advice become my motto.  And so they come, these dreams of me floating around the sky and rooftops, this time entering the window of my grandmother’s room back in the beginning of the new year in 1998. There I was, looking at my grandma knit and think about how her first-born granddaughter was about to be introduced into this world. In some kind of way, I could visualize a part of her spirit flowing out of her head, like some sort of aroma of a fresh perfume, all through her arms, neck and all the way down through her chest to melt down into the blanket’s yarn in her hands. Was she surprised or scared? Was she filled with happiness or mixed emotions? Though I knew I will never figure out the answers to those questions, I sure did know she was willing to fly for me through the streets of Monterrey at 6 a.m. that cold January morning, dancing to the beat of Con Te Partirò by Andrea Bocelli. Taking her recently finished blanket to her most priced little girl was her priority at that moment. Now it began, the start of a new relationship between a little girl and a knit blanket. These dreams I’ve talked about before continue, but now focusing on the aftermath. And so I fly now to Adriana’s home in her very first year of age. Everything made sense now, she was wrapped in her little knit blanket sleeping, with a smirk in her tiny mouth showing how comfortable and protected she felt. All of a sudden this sort of shadow starting to emerge from the blanket she was wrapped in, like some sort of aroma of a fresh perfume. By her side was this shadow, of someone I found really familiar, just looking down at her. Now these were the last words I heard, “My dear sweet baby, I will take care of you all through out your life just remember to never leave me forgotten”. Suddenly I woke up to this strange feeling and there it was, my little knit blanket. (455 words)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My inspiration was my grandma, to whom this poem was dedicated to. 

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My Grandpa´s Hat and Boots

In 2010 a hat and a pair of boots gained a new owner. They were the signature look of a tall and lean man. They were from my grandpa, a true cowboy by all means. You would think that the boots and the hat were only used for the work at the farm but he would wear them everywhere. By everywhere I mean day to day, family reunions, parties, work, and even Christmas and new year’s eve. He was a very stubborn man and changing his hat and boots wasn´t an option. He didn´t really cared about dress codes, everyone knew what he was going to wear. I think he was very determined in making clear that was his style. But it doesn´t end there, we are still missing some elements to the look, a bottom up shirt, a pair of blue jeans that were always too big for him and had been used way too many times, throw a hat and a pair of old boots and the look is complete. As you can see, finding him gifts wasn´t very difficult, you knew exactly what to give him and you knew he would wear it all the time. I always picture my grandpa sitting in his backyard smoking a cigarette with his hat and old boots. No one really remembers what his hair looked like because he was always wearing his big white hat. And like they say like father like son, you can find my father wearing almost the same thing most of the time, he just gives it a twist with some baseball caps. My dad is the new owner of this very special hat and boots. It´s been 7 years since my grandpa passed away and the hat and boots are still alive.  Even thought they were bought a long time ago, they are in very good shape. My dad wears them from time to time. He says that he will wear the hat and boots until he is incapable of walking with those boots and the hat has holes in it. I think is truly magical how a hat and a pair of boots can bring you so many memories and remind you some much of a person. You can´t keep a person forever, but the hat and boots is a little piece that my dad can kip from my grandpa.

    

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My Grandpa's Guitars

When I think of my grandpa one of the first things that comes to my mind are his guitars, he would always have them in the studio of the house and he would always play different songs, sometimes for himself, some others for all his grandchildren. I remember he telling me how he would go out with his friends to play when he was younger, then he would show me the recordings they made, he once even tried to teach me to play the guitar but I kind of failed that one. On the weekends when all the grandchildren went to his house, we ran to the studio where the guitars were standing because we wanted to play them, and he would always play a song to us, and in those moments we where more than happy. We would always want to play with his guitars so one day when we went to his house, he received us with a gift, our own guitars, they were so tiny you could think it was an ukulele but they weren’t, they were guitars, so finally we could play like we were our grandpa, but actually he was way better than us, for us it was more like a game, and we really liked it. The guitars were always in there; it didn’t matter if it was pouring outside the house, or if it was the hottest day of the year, if it was a good day or a bad day, you could know for sure you will find his guitars standing in the studio, like if they were waiting for my grandpa to play them. Some days he would spend a lot of time just cleaning them and changing all the strings of his guitars, and in that moment you could see the serenity on his face, and you could know for sure it was the thing he most liked. And even though in his last years he didn’t played much, he would always listen to his recordings, remembering the friends that played with him, the little parties they made just to play, and every time he listened you could see a big smile appearing on his face. He would always tell us stories about that, and we enjoyed them as much as he did. We still remember all his stories, and when we go to visit our grandma we see all of his guitars standing on the studio, and remember all the stories he told us and the ones we lived with him.

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My Dad´s Harley

Always I wonder why my Dad have a Harley if he tell that the motorcycles are too dangerous. He use to treat his Harley like a little baby no one can touch it and you are out of your mind if you ask to him to use it maybe a Little ride but he alwayl will drive. This Harley is always in the middle of the garaje and the cars outside on the Street, I wonder why this motorcycle is so important and delicated if it is dangerous and many people die because of this machines, well, My dad always tell me and my brothers to never use one, but hold on, what kind of example is this. On my mind I always want one motorcycle, i dont know i like to feel how is to drive one on the highway, with that style with others motorcycles, the sound of the engine, I always been curious about it. My dad use the Harley a few times, like once a month, but he only uses with my mom and some times they use to go with other Harley I think they are only couples with Harley and they travel to the U.S., or sometime they only go to Allende for a lunch or something. This Harley is special I never see my dad to treat a machine like this like his own son, he use to buy some expensive quimics to keep the bright and clean of the Harley. My dad tell me about how he use a motocroos when he was Young and to revive this memories he buy a Harley, a two Wheel Harley, he enjoyed to use it but in one travel with my mon and other couples there was some diesel on the Street and in a red light he tried to use the break but with the deasel he fell with my mom, my mom only have scratches but my dad break his knee  and then he need a operation. When he was able to walk again he sold the Harley, but he bought another one but this time was a three Wheel Harley. I dont know what is in his mind but I think that no matter how dangerous something could be if you really like how it feels when you are living the danger you dont care about it you only think that it worth all the danger.

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