I come from my grandmother’s dreams
A girl. Finally. The pink and white blanket envisioned a generation ago can be knit. Only the best yarn will do. Oh, yes. The thick blanket cradles the lump on her head perfectly. Dr. Epstein, the famous surgeon, removes it and she is fine, you see?
Dreams can come true
Erin, you still do? Ha! Yes, every day I put cream on my elbows too. Feel how smooth. Let me see yours. Oh, yes. You are a lady too. Now tell me how is Johnny, Vice President? Oh-ah! He is good. He is smart. And you too. You will graduate, get a good job. Now why don’t you marry this one? He will have you, support you, be good to you. And he wants Jewish babies, yes? Oh, I am talking, talking – the flowers! Why do you do this, baby? So much money! Oh, Erin, I love you. I love your brother too, but you – ah, you know it.
I became my grandmother’s nightmare.
Kicked out of college. For drugs! What is this? Marijuana now. Then it will be heroin. Is she addicted? The soap opera showed it – the girl addicted to drugs, meeting the dealer in a dark alley, selling her body. Not Erin. Why won’t her mother, her father, her godmother, someone, they won’t save her, make her be good?
There is no cure for nightmares.
You must do as I say Erin. Go back to school. Be a mentch. Leave this – this place. Your parents don’t even know this man. Who is he? Why? Why won’t you? You MUST LISTEN to me. You’re lucky. You have parents that love you, that want you home. My parents died in the war when I was 14. I was alone. Fourteen. Go, go home. Erin, please. What is wrong with you? What are you doing in this place? I want to see you. Meet him. You were too bony. Eat. You need to eat, eat. I will cook for you. You will bring him to me. That is fine. But DO SOMETHING. You don’t listen to me. Listen to your mother. She says you are bad. Be good. Go. Be a mentch.
I am waking up.
I give her eulogy, high. Everyone says how beautiful it was. Reminds me how grandma stitched her every stitch with love. So she’s giving me a big hug. Back at his studio I rip the sweater off to look for a fresh vein. The needle rocks me to sleep. I dream that I’m clean, back in school, happy, bringing my grandma flowers, making her proud.
Dreams can come true.
Happy Mother’s Day grandma. I love you. I miss you so much! I’m 9 months clean. I wish you were here to see me like this. I’m trying so hard to be a mentch. I’m gonna go back to school, be an art teacher or an art therapist. I guess you know what I am doing now (not like you didn’t have ideas when you were here. I know you knew it all). I’m sorry I hurt you so bad. I know you forgive me. I just wish I’d been good enough that you could’ve visited me, told me stories before bed. I don’t even remember your last Mother’s Day. And today just doesn’t feel right. At least you’re happy somewhere. Tell your mom I say Happy Mother’s Day, too.
And the flowers weren’t much.
I wanted to.
I love you.
