Friday, March 22, 2013

A grey November morning
Flames dancing
Slightly unseasoned wood snaps, pops and hisses
Steam rolls from my coffee mug wafting seductively toward the updraft of the fireplace
A cozy last rain before winter snows lay siege to the landscape

I cried at diagnosis; death was a gift
who are these people who claim to operate on brains
all I could think of was Jethro Bodine
driving his hillbilly truck and crowing
about how he was studying to be a brain surgeon

There’s a big old house in Gardiner, Maine
Fourteen rooms and twenty five years
of births, deaths, holidays, and daily life
and one perfect moment
I pull out from time to time
Home reclaimed from tenants
Working in my freshly painted kitchen
Midway between two weeks vacation from work
The abundance of Christmas just days past
Endless rooms upstairs filled with kids and chaos and love
Aroma of turkey and fresh baked rolls wafting throughout the heating system
Brings the kids running down the stairs in unison
At just the right time
A flurry of table setting as everyone exalts over the smells and sights
With no grumbles about a moment for grace and gratitude for this life,
                This day, this moment
Happy faces, chatter chatter chatter
Not a thought about work, school, cancer, legs that don’t run, responsibilities
                Between us
A smile spreads through my whole body
                For that moment
                                Even now.