Limericks for Grandma

“Play a game with me, Grandma,” said Rachel.

“No, Rachel, I don’t feel like playing now,” said Grandma. “I miss Grandpa too much to play anything.”

Rachel missed Grandpa too. She missed sitting in front of the fireplace and listening to those
funny poems of his. What had he called them? Limericks, that’s right.

Rachel had started writing her own limericks too, just like Grandpa. It was fun to think of rhyming words and funny phrases.

Before he died, Grandpa had given Rachel his typewriter. If you want to write really funny
limericks, he said, use my typewriter. Some of my funniest limericks were punched out with these
keys. Rachel knew she would keep that old typewriter forever. It made her smile to see it on her desk. Why wasn’t Grandma happy to be surrounded by Grandpa’s things?

She had an idea. That night, she sat in front of Grandpa’s typewriter. T-h-e-r-e she typed.
Rachel noticed the “r” was lighter than the rest of the letters. She typed a limerick like one of
Grandpa’s, then folded her poem into an envelope. The next morning, she slipped it into Grandma’s
mailbox.

“Hi, Grandma,” said Rachel that afternoon after school.

“Look what I got today,” said Grandma. “A limerick. Like those funny poems Grandpa used to write. “This one is good too.” Grandma read the poem out loud:
There once was a girl named Dolly
Who felt so melancholy
She went for a walk
To the end of the block
And when she returned, she felt jolly.

“Why would anyone send you a limerick, Grandma?” asked Rachel, smiling.
“I don’t know. There’s no name on the page. Whoever it is must know Grandpa used to write limericks. Maybe this poet wants to help me remember him.”

“Let’s go for a walk too, Grandma. We can talk about Grandpa.”

“O.K.,” said Grandma. She rose slowly from her rocking chair. Rachel held her arm as they
descended the stairs and walked down the street. When they reached Rachel’s house, they turned and walked back.

“I feel better,” said Grandma as she sat down, but she didn’t look happy.

That night, Rachel typed out another limerick on Grandpa’s typewriter. Grandma found it in her mailbox and read it out loud to Rachel the next afternoon:
There once was a woman named Billy,
Who when she felt sad, she got silly,
She’d hop to her feet,
Dance a jig in the street,
“Til she felt just as fine as a filly.

“This poet sure knows how to rhyme,” said Grandma. “I wish Grandpa had met him.”
“Grandpa would act out his limericks,” said Rachel. “If he wrote this one, he’d have danced a jig for us.” Rachael jumped up in front of Grandma. She put her hands on her hips, twisted her
waist, kicked out her feet and turned around. She counted a beat. She stomped her feet. She turned and turned until she got dizzy and fell on the floor at Grandma’s feet. When she looked up,
Grandma’s foot was tapping on the floor. A slight smile brightened her face.

“There’s a little bit of Grandpa in you,” she said.

That night, Rachel typed out a third limerick. She tried even harder this time to make it funny. She wanted to hear Grandma laugh. She wanted so much for her to be happy again.

“I received another limerick from my secret poet, Rachel. I didn’t open it up yet. I wanted
you to hear it with me:”
There once was a woman named Jackie,
Who lived in a house that was tacky,
So she painted her plants,
And the bees and the ants,
“Til her garden became just as wacky.

Grandma leaned back in her rocker, raised her eyes to the roof and began to giggle. At first the giggle came from deep in her throat but as it rose higher, it grew into a laugh. She looked
straight at Rachel, put her wrinkled hands on both sides of her cheeks and heckled for a good long five minutes.

“Isn’t that funny,” she said, reaching for Rachel to come to her. She gave Rachel a big hug,
and laughed into her shoulder. “I have some bulbs in the garden shed. Help me plant them this
afternoon, will you?”

“Oh, yes, Grandma,” said Rachel. They planted tulips on each side on the stairs so Grandma
would see them from the porch when they bloomed.

Rachel was so tired that night that she forgot to write a limerick for Grandma. She woke up
late the next morning and rushed to get to school on time. When she got to Grandma’s house after school, there was a note on her rocking chair on the front porch:
I’m visiting your mom at your house today. Meet me there.
Love, Grandma

Rachel raced home. When she reached the mailbox, she noticed a letter stuck to its side with her name typed on the envelope. The “R” was lighter than the rest of the letters. “Mmmm,” she said. She opened the paper and began to read:
Most Grandkids think Grandpas are funny,
And Grandmas are just sweet as honey,
But I’m funny too,
Quite as funny as you.
Thanks for making my afternoons sunny.

Rachel ran through the front gate, up the path to the porch, skipped up the stairs, dashed to the screen door, opened it and yelled, “Oh, Grandma! How’d you know?”