What Barbara Lipke Left Behind

By Tony Toledo

Her trademark storytelling vest.
An empty theater seat.
A half eaten box of Chilmark Chocolates.
A bathing cap.
An old beat up beach bag.
A dog eared book of Norwegian folk tales.
A welcoming home of brick and laughter.
A puzzle in the corner with one missing piece
Toast that sits when it wants to fly.
A simple straight forward salad.
Schencken. (Who knew snails knew German?)
Figures, Facts and Fables.
A hole in Martha's Vineyard.
An empty potluck pan.
World's longest 3/8 of a mile.
A Chilmark floor yearning for her footsteps.
Waves at Windy Gates wondering when she'll be back.
36 years of Herb's good night kisses.
Binky and Bobby, nicknames un tethered.
A certain bend in the road that holds her voice.
The last time I saw her.
10 great grand children.
7 grand children.
4 children with her chin. (and heart)
New England Storytellers (who miss her terribly)
A world of admiring friends.
One less skinny dipper.
One less storyteller.
One less teacher.
One less friend.
Her laugh.
Her grin.
Her love.
A ripple in the water.

Inspired by the Charles Coe poem What He Left Behind (for his father).