the sound of her

it seems to me 

that, for as long as I can remember, 

her lovely little laugh 

jingled, gently, through the days of my life 

like windchime tinkles on shushing breezes

or the whispered breaths of rippling leaves – 

tiny exclamation marks 

that “abracadabraed” the moments

where we lived:

across the street from each other  

and down the road from our grandmother’s house.

memories of the sweetness  

of those sunbeam hours on nana’s old porch: 

the smell of sweet peas from the garden,

gently wafting through the squeaky screen door 

mingling with whiffs of lead pencils 

and woolworth scrapbooks, 

that we’d fill with our adventures –

and sing and dream about taking our act,  

“the singing cousins" on the road. 

she always made everything seem

“perfectly possible”: 

swimming across the lake, 

skiing down the mountain, 

becoming international rock stars.

we were, in those shining hours 

– invincible – 

and then we weren’t.

sometimes out of nowhere  

(sometimes as soft as leaves rustling)

I hear her giggle in the air

the sound of her

– the heavenly breathy tinkling sound of her – 

but she's not there.

note:  Poetry Jam’s prompt for this week was to write a tribute (or eulogy) about someone.  I chose to write about my cousin Susan.  Our sweet Sue, lost her battle with cancer on December 13, 2007 – leaving us far, far too soon.  This poem, you might say, was years in the making, as I have written about her passing several times before.  But the prompt from Poetry Jam gave me the opportunity to weave elements of those previous poems together.

photos:  The Sound of Her - W. Bourke and “The Singing Cousins” – H. Shaw (Mom). 

  

© 2014 Wendy Bourke