It’s the sixties, and Grandma is a Pakeha
she has brown Irish smiling eyes and
a dowager hump, although she’s no rich
widow
She lives in a State House on George Street
purchased from the State with a State Advances
Loan which is being paid off by her youngest
daughter
Grandma had eight babies and then scooped
up another when her eldest girl fell pregnant
somehow Grandma fell pregnant too, two
boys
When Granddad got dementia, it was easy
enough back then. People just sent old Jack
home again when he got lost, it was a small
town
Thank God for the neighbour we all said
for years after, when he distracted granddad
with the axe raised behind Grandma
Phew
Michael Joseph Savage was a Saint along
with all the other official Catholic ones
on the Columban Calendar in her
washhouse
It’s only now that I’m a grandmother that
I wonder why an old lady with Irish roots
and sparkling brown eyes, even knew
How to do a haka
What if I could go back and talk
to Grandma, over the ox-cube soup
she made for me one school day for
lunch
All I recall is saying (under my breath)
I must go now, Grandma, I must go
now Grandma, I must go…. And then
I did go
What I’d give to go back and ask her
about that haka…
a curious half hour 
A beautiful poem, thanks for sharing it. Reminds me of how much I will never know because I wasn’t even interested in listening – let alone asking questions.
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Thank you!
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I love this one. It has your typical energy and eye for extraordinary detail and human story and a story beyond the story. Bringing the past into the present. You’re a treasure x
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And I love hearing from you, dear Rachel. Thank you.
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I’ve only just noticed that the lines don’t scan as intended. I pushed print from the draft but alas, WordPress changes the line breaks….grrr… can’t seem to fix it…. ah well.
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I can hear that it scans.
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Very evocative Maggie! Beautifully penned.
Merry Christmas to you and John
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Kia ora Des. Merei Kirihimete to you. Thank you for stopping by to read my blog. All the best from us both.
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Also loved your article on PLF. One of those ‘once in a lifetime’ experiences one never forgets. I knew of him via his wartime exploits in Crete. Reminded me of my meeting with Odette Hallowes husband Geoffrey who himself was a hero of the SOE in WWII. Was fortunate to spend the day with him and other members of Odette’s family when they visited their granddaughter Nicole Miller-Hard who had married a New Zealander and was living in Tauranga.
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Oh, that surely was a moment of absolute serendipity for me back then. Unforgettable and it felt like a wee nudge from the muse for my Greek novel. What a treat to meet Paddy.
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