It was a cold and rainy April,
the kind of April that makes you crave soup and books.
I was lying on a dirty mattress
on my apartment floor
when the phone rang.
I didn’t answer it.
I knew right away that my grandmother was gone.
I tried to remember what I’d last said to her,
whether I’d told her where I was
and why I’d chosen to be there.
And even if I told her,
would she have understood?
There were many questions now
that would never be answered.
But then I smiled.
I remembered her soup, her books.
I remembered her garden
and how her flowers
could make even the coldest April warm.