Ann Keiffer


When our grand-daughter visits,
she likes to go through
my drawers of sparkly jewelry,
piling on layers of necklaces,
searching out the clip-on earrings,
loading her wrists with bracelets,

“Grammy, I really, really
love this,” she says as she
stands on a stool, admiring
herself and some gaudy
bauble of mine she’s
modeling in the mirror.

So prodigious is this girl’s charm,
she strikes a near perfect balance
between complimenting my gems
and pure finagling: Grammy-please-

“Remember?” I say. “I told you
I’m going to give you all of
my sparkly jewelry when I die.”

A pause, and then she replies,
“But Grammy, I don’t want
you to die.”

“Oh, my girl, don’t worry.
I won’t die for a long, long time,
not until I’m very old and very
tired, and I really need a rest.”

She laughs in surprise and says,
“Then. guess what, Grammy!
You’ll get to go and take your
nap with God!”

Ann Keiffer
April, 2011


About Ann

I am interested in the strange beauty of brokenness, in transforming possibility in difficult times, in how we heal even when we can’t get better, in the alchemy of surrender, in the interplay of light and shadow, in the bounty of everyday wonders, in the gift of laughter…and writing about it, all and everything.

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