love

My grandmother turned 100.She lives in an old house,on an Indian reservation in the American Northwest.She remembers the war—the bombs,the rationing,the drills,blackout curtains drawn tight.She remembers.She is an American.She believes in the country.Her father at the wooden table,drawing plans for houses.She draws plans too.She wants to be an architect,and to make clothes—natural, simple, fashionable.I remember…