Iowa Sky

The Iowa sky was so blue -
the grass so green. And the corn hung heavy on the stalks, ready to be plucked.
The summer evening was growing cooler. The slow August days had been enjoyed.
And she left.

In my dream last night she told me I looked pretty.
When she would sit in her green chair as I entered she never told me I looked pretty?
She judiciously told me I looked “nice.”

I clipped her toenails sometimes, and I took the longish hairs off her chin too.
She always lifted her chin up for me, and though ashamed of her state, did not cast her eyes far down or hide her chin.
I was so nervous with a pair of scissors near her thin tissue paper skin, but her chin was so strong-looking and sweet.

The one day before I left for school she sat in her green chair mending my dress I really liked.
She told me that some of my skirts were too short.
She remarked on my abundant wardrobe, and gently chastised me for having so many articles of clothing.
“I don't think this dress jacket is worth it,” she said. “I'll mend it but don't wear it on Sunday or anything.”
But she kept mending my new dress.
I always bragged about the bargains I found, and she listened patiently to me –
even though sometimes I was a little annoying.

She was giving me money.
She didn't have any money,
but she wanted to help me get through school,
and she wanted me to have pretty dresses even if she didn't always approve of their lengths.

I never got that money from her which doesn't make me so sad - except that I wish I could go to her while she sat in her green chair.
I wish I could tell her about what I did that day, and she would hungrily listen,
wishing she could have done the same or at least helped.
And then when I told her I needed her help
or that I wanted to weed her front petunia bed for a little extra cash,
her eyes would have lit up at the thought of helping someone.