Contemplations on a Monday

In the past few days,
my grandma Betty
has been hanging around.
She has appeared in the ring
on my dresser,
in a small diner
somewhere in LA
pouring coffee,
and today as I hemmed and hawed
over how much
to spend on hair bands
she showed up to help me
with making my decision.
I went with the
multifunctional black.
Which should probably shed
some light on how
I'm getting by.
The last time
Betty and I
spent physical time
together,
we discussed a lot of things.
What her life was like in
California, the current affairs,
what we felt was important for
the country, if she ever
saw ghosts- she didn't,
but
she believed in angels,
and she believed me
when I told her
I can feel them.
I don't think
anyone in my family
has ever understood
the relationship we had
together
when no one else
was around.
Grandpa
maybe
but he went deaf
a while back
and didn't pick up
all the things
Betty and I
laid down.
She gave me her
sage advice
and when I told her
how many hours
I work a week,
she told me
I should work more.
I should be working
6 days a week.
I kinda of scoffed
at her suggestion
thinking to myself
times weren't as hard
for me
as they were
for her
back in the day.
When she visited
today, I heard
her words
again
and sighed
as I put back
the rainbow hairbands.
"Yes, Grandma,"
I muttered,
and smiled
at the next person
I saw.
She was a frog
of a woman, a
Russian old lady
with orange hair.