Wheeled in from the cold,
wearing layers of winter clothes,
her aging daughter brings
her to a table close to the door.
The years on her face
are apparent by the loose skin
drooping from her cheekbones,
eyes sinking into her face as her
eyelids spill over into her line of sight.
The sparce wisps of white hair
on the sides of her head
stick out a little like that of a clown,
the top of her head more or less bald.
She reaches for the coffee
her daughter brought to the table,
and holds the mug with both hands,
bringing it slowly to her lips.
At first glance,
her obvious vulnerability
brought tears to my eyes....
But then something made her laugh,
and the smile on her face
was all I could see now.
I didn't see old age anymore,
I didn't see vulnerability,
I only saw a mom and her daughter
drinking coffee and laughing about something
I would never know.
I turned back to my own coffee
and smiled as I raised the cup to my lips.