Going To Gramma Ann's

Only 80 miles to her house,

It seemed to take a lifetime.

Gramma Ann had that effect on me.

I dreaded every mile and every minute.

Her mother must have had an awful meal

Just prior to Ann’s birth,

Something bitter and indigestible,

Perhaps a very bad pickle.

Traffic moved slowly on the Long Island Expressway,

(What else is new?)

60 miles in 2 hours.

Crossing Manhattan claimed anther hour.

In a pre air-conditioned drive to Jersey,

Taking 4 sweat filled hours,

(Or was it days?)

There was one redeeming thought.

She was a grandma by marriage, not birth.

This woman, who never smiled,

Never parted with her closest friend, money,

Without signs of grief .

Arriving at her front door,

Looking at the short, stout body

Sitting beneath an unsmiling face

She greeted us “So finally you come for a visit.”