how much larger
than her
I had grown.
When I could no longer put
on her clothes.
And I hated that my hair would not
be straight like Brenda's.
My grandparents need me
to be her
It could have been Brenda who went
off to college,
or moved away.
It could have been Brenda coming
back to visit
and laugh with them.
Talk about her job
The places she has seen.
My Dad does not tell stories about her.
I dream them.
Invent them.
My grandparents only say
what could have been.
I am not Brenda.
Everyone knows that,
but they see her face in mine
every time I pull out of the drive.
An I always make it a point to say
long good byes
because she could not.
