Glasses and Plates
As she left home,
she packed them
in a careful, slow panic-
did she know then her world was to end?
And my grandmother came here,
lived a life here,
and died here,
and what she brought, she passed down to me.
She left me glasses-
glasses and plates-
all that's left of meals eaten, those who ate them, times they shared.
Glasses-
windows on a world long gone.
She would only use them for special times,
meals made sacred with love.
I could never see the place she came from,
but her tables brought me closer.
Now they stand
in my curio,
all arranged like an altar,
colored glass and the gold, like a church.
And I wonder
if one day
an unknown child of mine will
look at them and try to know me?
She'll just see glasses-
glasses and plates-
all that's left of meals eaten, those who ate them, times we shared.
Glasses-
windows on a world long gone:
All that will be left of my world and me.
— Lori Rottenberg, February 2002