Editor’s Note: I was at least twelve at this point, since my Grandpa was already gone, but I’m not sure when this was. I hope it wasn’t much later than that!
Once or twice almost every year,
We would visit my Grandma’s ranch.
I would always shed a joyous tear,
Visiting another family branch.
My parents left me with my Granny,
And went off to places still unknown.
She was not really much of a nanny,
So I felt almost home alone.
As I started to drift asleep,
I was quiet as a mouse.
I didn’t hear a peep.
I was the man of the house.
I woke a little bit later,
I could hear a rustling sound.
I didn’t want to wake her,
But there was someone on the ground.
My uncle had at least two tractors,
Parked under the shed.
These I assumed were factors,
For robbing our homestead.
At this point, I saw two choices.
One, Granny pulled out a gun.
The other, hearing stranger’s voices,
She told me to go get one.
I really hoped she had a pistol,
Hidden deep in her nightgown.
Otherwise, clear as crystal,
I was going to shoot a bandit down.
I waited for her to hand me a key,
Hidden behind her necklace cross.
“This is to the gun cabinet, Sweetie.”
I would then become the boss.
There was another option, of course.
I woke Granny, who was trying not to cuss.
While I began to panic, she said,
“Nobody’s gonna bother us.”
“Now, you go back to bed!”
Well, that was anti-climactic.
When I looked out at morning light,
I found we had not been alone.
Sometime in the dark of night,
The cows had come back home.