Something Old, Something New

My five-year-old grandson carries a Brontosaurus
backpack with his orange lunch, a bottle of water
and an extra pair of pull ups, just in case.
He hops on the bus and settles in his usual seat,
holding a toy, perhaps the green engine Percy
or maybe his bright blue monster truck. 

When my son went to overnight camp, he hid
his GI Joe with a Kung Fu Grip under the shirts
and pants and sweaters in his suitcase.
He hoped I wasn’t looking, it was too babyish.
Later he told me he shared a cabin with Jeremy
who brought a stuffed cougar with only one ear.

I took three I Heart You bears to college
to put on my bed. Others brought Ginny dolls
pretending they were cute decorations,
matching their new ruffled bedspreads. But
we knew we all needed a seed of the familiar
in order to safely leave home.

When she was older than old, stooped back,
half mast mind, painful bunions on both big toes,
my grandmother announced she wanted photos
of her husband, her four children and all seven
grandkids buried with her, along with
her saucy crimson heels, just in case.

Claire Scott is an award-winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, Enizagam and Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.