I am a bird.
I wonder where spirits go.
I hear my grandma calling me in heaven.
Sometimes, I think I see her spirit.
I want to see my grandma who died someday.
I am sad that she died.
I pretend that I am right there besides her.
I feel sad when I don’t have her in my heart.
I touch my grandma’s hand sometimes, I think.
I worry that I will never get to see her in my life.
I cry at nighttime when I am sad that I don’t get to see her.
I am sad that I can’t see her that much.
I understand that I won’t see her in my life.
I say to my parents, “I hope that on the Day of the Dead she will come back and hold my hands.”
I dream that I am right there besides her.
I try my hardest to go and find her spirit on the weekend.
I hope that in my life I will see her.
I am sad that I don’t get to see her.