Babushka

This is for you, Babushka.
Eight letters that mean more than "grandmother"
they are the moment I first learned that word.
As a little girl whose clothes never matched
knew that unicorns existed but were just good at hiding
only knew pain as skinned knees
and joy as an extra bedtime story.

I was seven years young, with wide blue eyes
that lit up when i found out
there was name for my favorite grandmother
spoken in Russian, your native language
So i knew that the next time I saw you
I could tell you that I understood your heritage
with those eight little letters
My sister wasn't lucky enough to know the word I held close
like one of my favorite stuffed animals
So it would be our secret.
Whispered during the goodbyes of family gatherings
Goodbye grandpa, Goodbye grandma- bye babushka
so with tiny hands, a big imagination, and no creative talent
I drew you a picture of us.
marker scribbles of blue grass, an orange sun
and two smiling stick figures
with arrows and labels to make sure you knew
that it was my babushka- and me.

Back when I was still small enough to fit in your arms
like we were part of the same nesting doll set
When I was sit in your lap and put your glasses on my face
becuase I liked your outlook on the world better than my own
When your voice played out a light melody
tinkling and trilling like piano keys
When you laugh would surround me and kiss my ears like hummingbird wings
and all I could say is "I love you."

Now, there isn't enough kindness in the world without you here
because when you were around, I always had a reason to smile.
I'm finding more unlit roads without your radiant smile to light the way
and I quickly get lost on the paths I find
without your gentle hands to guide me.

I wish I had taken the chance to ask
grandmother, how do you dance?
How do you carry yourself with such grace across the stage of life?
How do you shine so brightly that you don't need a spotlight?
How to you cast your worries aside and float with dainty feet?

How did you stand tall against the voices that told you your worth was related to your gender
with a straight strong spine, you spoke for yourself.
Grandmother, how did you become strong?
What sort of weights did your heart have to lift before it was able to support so many?

If I look in the mirror in 60 years
and see a reflection of who you are- who you were
I will know I lived well and be proud of my identity
I hope that I stay connected to you
So now, I dance for more than myself..
I dance for two.
Each motion brings you closer to my heart and yet reminds me that you're so far away
When I move, my chest thumps with the rhythm of my own drum that now tells me secrets
lets me know I don't move alone
that as long as my toes skim across the floor
and there is still music in my bones
Even if you're not here
you're still
My babushka.