After thirty years of marriage, raising three kids, burying a lifetime of pets in the backyard and making ends meet, the day has arrived.
But...
It has arrived not adorned in the selling of this house to buy another in Florida for our retirement.
But...
It has arrived not adorned in the selling of this house to buy another in Florida for our retirement.
It has arrived not sadly as we kiss goodbye the grandkids.
It has arrived not even twirling in hilarity as I don a bathing suit that hangs slack around my ample breasts out of proportion to my body...
Instead...
It has arrived with you in a wheelchair, not knowing where we live.
It has arrived with you staring puzzled at a picture of your own children.
It has arrived with your sudden fear of any water even in the sink or bathtub.
So...
After thirty years of marriage, raising three kids, burying a lifetime of pets in the backyard and making ends meet, the day has arrived.
I know I said ‘till death...But whose death were we talking about?
Surely widow’s weeds would have been better than this.
It has arrived not even twirling in hilarity as I don a bathing suit that hangs slack around my ample breasts out of proportion to my body...
Instead...
It has arrived with you in a wheelchair, not knowing where we live.
It has arrived with you staring puzzled at a picture of your own children.
It has arrived with your sudden fear of any water even in the sink or bathtub.
So...
After thirty years of marriage, raising three kids, burying a lifetime of pets in the backyard and making ends meet, the day has arrived.
I know I said ‘till death...But whose death were we talking about?
Surely widow’s weeds would have been better than this.
###
Poem by Pamela Tyree Griffin Previously Published in Salome
Photograph by Craig Toron
Photograph by Craig Toron
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