by Kelli Ford

"Thank the Lord for the Moonshine!"
my Granny exclaims happily
standing on her porch one evening.

I wish I had learned the Cherokee
word for great-grandmother
teacher, mother, gentle happy spirit...
                          Granny.

English never quite worked for her
as it should.  She quit school
in the third grade to work for her foster mother,

the witchdoctor, so her little sister
Waleesah could go
learn the white words and symbols.

I can see her now standing in the kitchen
           round happy belly,
a ruffley apron she made tied around it.

She dries her hands
wet from doing the dishes.
The soap is in a big round, yellow bottle with green writing.

I can see her    smiling    laughing    her fingers --
all 7 of them curled up and brown
smooth lined furrows for nails.

(Arthritis lived with her longer than I did)
      
I can't smell her anymore....Or remember if she had all her teeth.
But I can sure see her -- Hair salt and pepper
long ago.        Later all yellowed white.

A pious and humble bun sits on her head for church, cooking, and fishing
but at night, it lays long and beautiful down her back
as she brushes it in her gown
preparing to braid it into one thick silky yellow-white tail.

Just like JoJo, her daughter with black pepper hair
that loses more and more ground to salt every day,
in her pink gown, in the next room.

I didn't sleep with JoJo though...only Granny.

Granny wears a little birdie behind her ear that sings sweet songs to her.
Sometimes she can't even hear it as it whistles merrily away.
"Granny, turn your hearing aid down,"
someone says to her embarrassed chuckle.

Even with her birdie quietly sleeping on the dresser,
Granny wakes up before anyone
when JoJo has a seizure.

"Sister Jo's havin' a spell,"
she says quietly and runs from the bed
before I can even open my sleepy eyes.

I lay there scared hearing Granny talk to JoJo
calm, stern, and low    trying to hold her down.
They are big strong Indian women
so pictures fall off the walls

and knick-knacks from the shelves.
and JoJo's head hits things
like the piano bench and bed posts.

Granny grabs the wooden spoon she cut in half
and keeps beside JoJo's bed
and tries to get it between her teeth before she bites her tongue in two.

Granny's little brown curly hands get caught in the struggle
of the gnashing teeth and the half a spoon
but she keeps on caring for her baby.

Even when JoJo has to care for her
as she lays in her own bed alone....
They won't let me sleep with her anymore.

They say she is too sick.
The last time I sleep there, she keeps a red stained Kleenex
folded over and taped to her breast

as the hurt has surfaced in the form of a bleeding tumor.
She knows the Lord will heal her if it isn't her time,
and a doctor's knife and poison will not help an old Indian woman like her.

But I can tell that she is scared
and she hurts so bad
there in her own little house and bed.

I live hours away and am only a little girl.
I am not there
when she leaves.

My cousin Terry was --
     now she has Granny's same hurt
     trying to consume her from the inside out --

She wasn't in the room with Granny
when the hurt stopped.
But early that morning

before the sun thought about gracing the day
and Granny's moon was shinin" still,
Terry saw an angel leave the bedroom

and knew Granny had gone with her.
But I know she's still around.
            Right now.

I sit beneath a few cold November stars,
and most folks probably don't see a moon tonight in the orange city glow,
but I do.  I see Granny and her moon.

Thank the Lord for the moonshine!