Her hands are soft and delicate,
Fatigued, worn out from being a mother of nine
And a grandmother of twenty.
Each finger dances over the black and white keys
As methodically as a scientist,
As passionate as a child’s feet in the rain.
Heaven meets Earth, kissing its forehead,
When the sounds of the dancing
Escape from the blessing of her skin and the ivory.
I watch her play
And wonder if romantic love could ever
Equal what is shared between her and the Baldwin for church.
But they are Sally and Dan
Grammy and Pappy
—She and her best friend for life.
I know it.
So I ask,
When did you know you loved him?
She looks up and smiles softly
When I knew God was listening to the music
I played every day.
By Alexis Farabaugh