The Medal

I set his coffee on his workbench

and put the bagel jammed with cream cheese

on a napkin near a pile of metal discs.

These? he says, they’re medals

for the Little League team;

I gotta get going with these.

 

 

When I was small,

my father asked my grandfather

to make me a medal

because I could never win anything.

 

 

Grandpa crafted it from real silver,

round and shiny,

with a boy flexing his muscles

etched at the center.

 

 

That’s you, mensch.

A real hero!

He’s the only one who’s ever called me that.