I don’t know when I grew immune
to her magic

so many days
pushed together
into a smudge of love

comforting but unspecific
like the way I feel
about my kidneys

it wasn’t always like this of course
she was God and all the answers
until the last urge of childhood melted away
suddenly there were two adults

a mother and a daughter
you wouldn’t know it except for their small hands
and their eyes
green as a cat’s

then a baby
a new link on the chain
everybody changes position
like a game I played once in drama class

freeze
now you’re a fireman
now a ghost

I watch as he brings her slippers
the way they shake their heads at each other
a secret ritual
and how he laughs uncontrollably
every time she says thank you

it won’t always be like this of course
she will get older
he will take her arm one day
help her to her chair

and as we leave
I will tell him stories of his granny
they will spill out of me
grateful
enchanting
tales of awe.