Fish Truck

My Grammy Young had her groceries delivered and there were other salesmen that would supply things, like milk, bakery products etc.  I remember these, but what I remembered most was the fish truck:

                         Mr. Finson usually came
                            every Thursday.
                         The back of his paneled truck
                            held ice and fish.
                         When Grammy felt up to it,
                             she'd shop---
                          Buying enough haddock
                              for a chowder.
                          The green peeling paint
                              on the outside
                           gave way to a neat, clean
                               inside, smelling
                           like a hospital disinfectant.
                               As Grammy grew older,                       
                           and I became more responssible,
                                I got to choose the fish.
                           The old man would smile
                                as he counted the money,
                           because Grammy always
                                gave me the exact amount.
                           Time's great eraser leaves only
                                 faded memories,
                            that always become sharper
                                 whenever I smell the aroma
                            of homemade fish chowder.