Sitting on a Bench

For so long you sat on the fence- jumping when the phone rang- cringing at the indecent and abusive mix up of names in the hospital- and sighed in disbelief as you watched your Dad walk toward you from across a parking lot. Last night your limited strength kept you vertical. I watched your struggle as I did when you tried to situate yourself in the car after lunch at The Soho Charcuterie with Your baby sequestered in your belly- some 35 years ago.Your fragility was worn across your face in such a pronounced, needing to be plucked way. I know your physiognomy spanning our lifetime. Your vulnerability a very embryonic look. Crying on the inside expressed with a flat-line stare.

I pray today you tip-toe toward your recovery from weeks ago. My wish is that you get back to sea level, emerge from the stranglehold of confusion and breathe life back into your beautiful soul. 

You have served as the oxygen tank for your population. Simply one hat you wore with aplomb.

Hand me the tank, give me the hat! I have a two new cans of paint. Your choice pink or red. Choose one quickly- their purpose to paint a smile back on your face. Hurry before the paint dries. Sometimes, maybe the transfer of the torch helps get the one lagging behind, straight thru to the finish line. We all have a chapter we don’t read out loud!

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