The Waiting Room

There comes a time, If you live long enough, When you may find yourself In that last waiting room. One day it’s necessary To give up life as you know it And leave it behind To move somewhere else, Somewhere simpler with more help. What to do with all the books You have read over the years, That are like old friends? Who will get the family silver Or should it just be sold? What about the table linens, The chest of quilts made by Your great grandmother, And all the family photographs? There are boxes of souvenirs And albums from trips, Cookie tins for all the cookies You made at Christmas, Dishes and glassware and The corner china closet. But most of all, all of your life Is in this place called home. Your neighbors and friends, As close to you as family, Who stop by on the wide porch For a drink on a hot day. People always there with a smile, A helping hand, a casserole, A comforting, listening ear. Your church, the small town Grocery store and post office, The open spaces, trees, and Parks and the sandy beaches. You leave your whole life behind And move to a lovely new Apartment in a spacious building With other lovely new apartments, And you make the best of it Because, after all, you have a choice. You can choose to be miserable, Or you can choose to be happy, Even if you feel that you have moved To that last waiting room.