Four Lines Each For Three Women


   It’s you who taught me how to read,

   Who taught me how to write,

   Who taught me much of what I know,

   And tucked me in at night.



   You were my teacher and my friend,

   You blessed me in so many ways.

   It’s been so long since we have spoke;

   I miss you every day.



   You never read a word I wrote,

   But this matters not indeed.

   For naught a thing you ever said,

   Left me doubting you were proud of me.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community



Who was the third?

Rachel Genevieve

The third woman was my great grandmother. She was a devout Catholic Christian who loved God and loved her family. She worked on an air force base in Florida well into the 90s (and at one point was the highest ranking woman on the base). She was friendly, hard-working, funny, and brave. I looked up to her (and still look up to her) a lot. We both shared a middle name, and even though she lived in a different state than me, we were always pretty close, and my family would visit her almost every summer I can remember. She passed away this year when the college semester began. I miss her a lot, but I have peace that I'll see her again in heaven.

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