Mother -- Come Home
Sitting with her now
How did she get so old?
How did I get so old?
So many pills
Green, blue, white, red, yellow, orange
All kinds of shapes
Round, oval, oblong – big and small
A tackle box with markings
Monday through Sunday
We talk and laugh . . . then
A knock on the door!
I’ll get it
A police officer – young, clean shaven
As I open the door
I jokingly yell . . . He’s here to arrest you mom!
Sir, I do need to speak with your mother. . .
What, Oh . . . come in
Mrs. Meade, did you hit another car?
Her face showed confusion, concern . . . fear
With a trembling voice . . . No officer, I dd i d not
I followed the young man to the garage
A scrape, red paint, a missing mirror
My heart sank
Thinking to myself – is she lying?
Or does she not realize what she has done?
Does it matter?
The time has come . . .
As I hug this frail old woman
Shoulders shaking, tears soaking my shirt
I whisper in her ear
Do not fear . . . everything will be OK . . . . I love you
Standing there I realized
Our roles had changed
Come my darling
It is time for you to live with us
Happy Mother’s day
I do love you!
May 10, 2015
Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015