Grandmother Cloud

She had her hair tied in a top-notch, perching over her forehead. Under the brightness of the sun, the flaxen wisps possessed the kind of luster one would expect to see leaking from a golden crown. She stood, her back curved and her head bowed, in an ebony dress that once clung to her bones like the coat of a cat when soaked, but now swum around her body with the vastness of the sea.

“Maman, listen to me. She’s still here. Let us pluck a cloud from the sky for her to sit and rest. Mami was always famous for her long limbs, now she will tower over us all in the clouds.”

I grab her skeletal hand and stretch our arms until our fingers are grazing the overhead blue hues and unbind one of the pieces of white marble sewn into blue satin.

“There maman, now there’s no need to be sad. Mami has her cloud to rest on.”