"There once was a little girl and her grandpa..."
A story unfolds in a low voice
And the funny face of a character he plays:
An old guy slightly dopey and chagrined
Leaning in, he begins,
Speaking softly to the baby of his daughter
"And she was wrapped in a blanket,"
Telling her tiny listening face
Looking up in rapt attention,
"I don't know what kind," he says. "Her name was Amoryn."
"And she lived in Arenal," he explains.
My dad and my girl lean in to touch foreheads today, bonk
How does she know to connect in this way, bonk
Deep knowing through crowns tapping, bonk
As Strangers in a Strange Land who grok*.
With her smitten grandpa
In sweet routine, a joke,
Passing into posterity
A moment in the life of Amoryn
Between the two of them
This time and place
Then quieter, he says, "Are you grandpa's girl? I think so.
Yes I think so, you're grandpa's girl."
How does the story end?
As a grown woman that little girl would then
Know that even as she stood on the lap of
Her mother's father - herself a daddy's girl -
That in this time much later
When grandpa's forehead is nowhere to be found
But a memory now
Of a sunny porch
Early in the day
Early in life
She was still Grandpa's Girl, which can never be undone.
*The Oxford English Dictionary defines grok as “to understand intuitively or by empathy; to establish rapport with” and “to empathize or communicate sympathetically (with); also, to experience enjoyment.” (Citation here.)