On calling forth the memories
An abecedarian for George
For George Sarmaniote on the occasion of his 90th year
A is for another year, aging, yellowing up the curling corners of the page.
B is for birthday. No cake, but a pie instead, studded with nine candles for every decade and one for good luck.
C is for calling forth the memories that make up a life.
D is for death not arriving, not now, not before any of us is ready to receive.
E is for everything we want to say, we do say—the things we don’t.
F is for forever our father’s daughters, childish hopes, and faults forgiven.
G is for the gathering table set, and candles lit despite
Sunlight in the afternoon.
H is for a heavy heart.
I is for imagining you in your naval blues, your youthful face, same smile in the eyes of both your girls.
J is for Janyce, so proud, so expressive in her tribute.
K is for the kindness and a lifetime of caring for the family.
L is for love. All of it.
M is for music in the background, the laughter, the voices, and dishes, the clinking, the tinkling, and wrinkling
A paper napkin crushed in one hand, a streamer falls.
N is for nodding, not knowing, and now the present moment. The only one that matters.
O is for our whole lives opening up in an afternoon. P is for the people we need, we honor, we remember in the quiet of our minds.
Quiet…
The quiet at the ending of a party with the counters still strewn of glasses and remnants of the meal, and you need some rest, and all the rest of the things can wait.
Stillness.
Time passing.
U, V, W, X , the counting out of the alphabet on a chalkboard a long time ago.
Y is for your youth, and yearnings, all your years — those ninety years.
Now the zenith of an entire life, well-lived.