I felt lucky when I inherited my grandmother’s house
I loved every minute spent there as a child,
each visit felt like a two-week holiday
My grandmother made life fun
I could feel her spirit in every room
Joe, my fiancé, loved it as much as I did.
He was the first to enter the attic
There we found paintings of every size
Dozens of them, from a long time ago, no signatures
There were four paintings of my grandmother
Much younger than I had known her
Her eyes sparkled with the same mischief I remembered
Who was the artist?
I imagined a dark-haired Latin lover
someone Grandmother never spoke about
We discovered more behind a large painting
My grandmother in the embrace of a woman
Scant clothing between the two of them
Surprised, as she had been married to grandad
For fifty-five years. Who was this woman?
Were they lovers as the painting showed?
Joe said they were good enough to put in an exhibition
I’m sure Grandmother hid them here for a reason
Least of all from Grandfathers eyes.
I may never find the reason they were hidden for so long
My search goes on, for there are dozens
of boxes and suitcases to look through
What I find will be a story for another day…
© anita dawes 2020