Change of Pace
As I leave work this Friday night,
my mind is still in over-drive.
Momentum from my busy day
keeps spinning mixed ideas and plans.
But just now I face a heavy task
involving choices to be made:
my mother moves tomorrow morning
to smaller quarters nearer me.
That means choices must be made
about possessions dear to her but
will not fit in her smaller place.
We must sort out, pare down and cull.
We go to work with pad and pencil:
this coat has not been worn in years,
this table won’t begin to fit ...
The kids might want this china set.
I speed along to make the list
but suddenly I am aware
my mother moves at a slower pace
and I have left her far behind.
She wants to talk about the friend
who gave to her this faded scarf,
about the family meals she served
here on this old oaken tabletop.
While I am urging her to choose,
she tells me the stories of her life.
She wants to have a slower farewell
to all these pieces of her life.
At last, I come to realize
I must shift down to a lower gear
to give her time to say good-bye
to these fragments of her yesteryears.
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