Jones

Khara’s clever prompt for Day 11 was to write about a Jones of some sort. I had just the Jones.

Willard Jones
He was my mother’s father.
And as far as I know, he only came to Oregon
for a little while in the 40s
just in time to father my mother.

This grandfather of mine,
he who I have never known,
must have felt it appropriate to
procreate/proliferate/propagate/conjugate
with my 15 year old grandmother.

After all, a war was on,
and I hear grandma looked
older than her years.

What am I to think about
this stranger,
who went to war
and (if he survived)
went home to North Carolina
afterwards.

Did he have a sweetheart waiting
at home?

I wonder if he/they ever knew
of the offshoot branch
of his family tree.

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