Care Packages

Reflecting on care packages received from my grandmother when I was a child.

Granny was present in the pleated skirts
I wore over skinned-knees,
The plastic bangles clinking as I hung
From the tree tops, swaying in the breeze.

Soft nightgowns, twisting up to my waist,
Creating static sparks as I fluttered the blankets.
Opening care packages smelling of snickerdoodles
Stored in empty Folgers cans. Magic.

Unfolding dresses and lacey blouses to only
Smell her dusting powder and lily of the valley perfume.
Wearing those clothes was a hug from her over
Thousands of miles, no longer so far away.

Arriving in brown paper wrapped packages, Love,
Postmark Puyallup, Washington.