Generational Chances

I hear the fearful, plaintiff cry

Coming from the stall next door,

Calling to the child outside

With heavy sighs and a hushed, “oh god.”

I hear the old woman’s doubt-filled prayer.

Desperately she strains to see

The future, holding onto a slim chance

That she can do a better job

With this grandbaby than she did

With the small one’s parent.

But as she shuts the door

To the stall and to the past,

I hear the detached voice of the child finally answer,

And I think to myself that if the Grandma

Lives long enough,

She will have yet another generation on which to practice.

-jenn long