endeavor

grandma, i remember when
i was very small, the world was very big
and airplanes to florida were an experiment
in wide-open wonder.
i remember when you took my sister and i
in your big black volvo (i still
can recall sticking to the seats
in the atlantic coast heat)
down to cape canaveral, a little spit
of land out into the blue waves.
i remember the big clock, and the bigger roar,
and trying to take pictures
of something that was
first impossible to see because it was so bright,
and then impossible to see because it was so small.
i remember hands over ears, the little
children who screamed (silently,
underneath the roar of the thrusters)
and watching this shining tube
go higher than an airplane,
higher than the clouds,
higher than the blue sky itself.
and grandma, you reached down to me,
and you held my hand.
and i remember, grandma. i just
wanted you to know that i remember.