Realization by Heather (Siemsen) Farha , October 25, 1994

I remember the first time I discovered
that my grandfather had eyelashes.
We had just seen a toad on the front walk by the porch steps.
It was sunny but I had on a jacket
and was sitting on a mower-tractor that
Jimmy used to ride.
And somehow I noticed in the glare of the cement,
as Grandpa looked at the toad, those
frail, hidden lashes behind glasses I'd never
seen him without.
And Grandpa suddenly changed, in my 5-year old eyes,
to a man who was vulnerable, who could lose things he cared for
and who could probably cry.
Upstairs in the bedroom overlooking the farm
I wept, not in sadness, but
out of love for this tender man, who's sweetness could break my heart,
who took me on tractor rides and, being bashful, made me blush.
I wonder now what he was thinking when he realized that his small
granddaughter was looking directly at him instead of the toad
and I wonder if, as I grew older, he noticed me
still trying to sneak quiet looks
at his eyes.