543 Day Writing Journey

Nana’s Purse. Day 303.

Blue Original Trident to cut in half and warm with her January mouth, 
a folded dollar bill to toss into the golden collection plate,
an un-used Kleenex or two, creased into a clean, soft square,
small, angular sample lipstick from Avon, one red one light-pink,
a carbon charge card receipt for Caldor: Lavender blouse and L'eggs,
a white, flat Sunday wallet, vegan leather with hidden cracks,
the Mastercard with a Venn circle. Red and yellow.
Yellow legal paper with blue cursive script: scallions, eggs, hot sauce,
transition lenses and a smirk on a laminated driver's license,
a photo of her daughter, my ma, hand on chin, middle-part, senior year,
small brown jar of pills, very tiny pills,
a silver, metal, pointy nail file.
Closed with a golden metal ball-clasp. Thunk.
Held with her delicate, cleanly manicured hand.
Thumb on the back near her pin-striped blazer, four fingers in the front.
Right hand, but writes with left.
White, shiny polish.

3 thoughts on “Nana’s Purse. Day 303.”

  1. I love the way you wrote this! The thoughts of my Grandma float across my mind in short blips, just like your words are written. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

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