Rose, from Ana

my grandma rose

my grandma rose and i shared the same grief.

she... lost her son and grandson...one misty july morning, to a

boating accident, on the hudson river.

and i... lost my father and my brother.

for 23 years, i'd silently watch her wake and beat her chest.

when she was done... she would take me into the nook of her bosom...

and i would feel safe.

when she was laid to rest, it was a snowy december day.

without words, i watched as they laid her body beside her beloved son

and grandson.

she had found, home -- and i had lost one.

but sometimes...

even now...

if i close my eyes and inhale really deeply...

i can still smell her milky breast.

and i feel safe.