The Three Messengers

She is older now, so I let the small things go. She’s not wiser than she was, yet how the stories flow. I let her spin them out for the fifteenth time today. My ear grows tired of the noise and tunes itself away. She’s more needy now; she wants me to clean her toes. She even asked me once to pop the pimple on her nose! There is always something, always another demand. I grimace a bit, then comply with each of her commands. It will soon be me, Queen Bee with all her powers. I won’t remember anything, and I’ll rattle on for hours. I hope my children will be loving toward my fragile frame. and have kind and gentle hearts as they watch me slowly wane.