A poem by Miller Williams

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I threw a snowball across the backyard.
My dog ran after it to bring it back.
It broke as it fell, scattering snow over snow.
She stood confused, seeing and smelling nothing.
She searched in widening circles until I called her.

She looked at me and said as clearly in silence
as if she had spoken,
I know it's here, I'll find it,
went back to the center and started the circles again.

I called her two more times before she came
slowly, stopping once to look back.

That was this morning. I'm sure that she's forgotten.
I've had some trouble putting it out of my mind.

When I was in 2nd grade I was making this science project that involved creating a magnet using a large-sized nail, copper wires and one of those small square batteries. To add on to it, I was going to attach a switch that would turn the magnet on and off. I got the supplies together but forgot to get a switch when I went to the store with my grandmother. I didn't realize that I didn't have the switch till I started working on my project. I threw a fit and cried as I always did (and often still do) as characteristic of being the youngest, wanting to get the switch right there and then. No matter how hard my grandma tried, she couldn't appease me and eventually gave up and walked out the door without a word. Without even saying anything, I knew that she left to walk to the hardware store to get me the damn switch.

Of all the things she would remember in all of her 97 years of living, that moment would probably not be in that list. She would remember her wedding day and giving birth to each of her five children. She would remember the day when her oldest son died and several years later the day her oldest daughter joined him. She would remember the days of the war and the Japanese occupation. She would remember my grandfather's final confused silent nights, spent in the cold concrete hospital. If she were to remember me at all, I hope it would be the day I made her a christmas card and water formed in her eyes.

But that moment when she walked out the door to get me something that I didn't even need at the moment I wanted it, still haunts me with guilt. It's interesting what stays with us. How something we did to affect someone else can end up affecting us even more.