Bird on a Wire…

Today is my last day with Mr. T.  I’m going to miss him.  He’s 88 years old and lives in an assisted living facility.  A little over two months ago, he lost his wife of 62 years, and he is a very sad man.  He has spent his entire life hyper-focused on being a “business man” and developing big things like subdivisions and golf courses.  I believe he has a lot of regrets.  I know he has a lot of stories, and I have been trying to get him to tell them to me.  But he’s not much of a talker.

I pick him up after lunch, and we drive around town.  Check up on his subdivision-in-progress.  Hang out at the golf course club house.  A quick jaunt to the office.  An impromptu trip to the doctor to flush the wax out of his ears.  Yes, we really did that.

A couple of days, because of the storms and heavy rain, we went to his house.  He would shuffle around some papers on his desk.  Then, he would lie down on his wife’s bed.  He’d pull her pillow under his head, take off his glasses.  He napped.  Each day, my heart broke, and I sat on the couch.  Flipped through Poets & Writers.  Was mindful of the thunder.  Intrigued by the lightning, as always.  I wrote a poem for him.

In fact, I began my new poetry manuscript project thanks to Mr. T.  This idea has been brewing in my head for six years, and finally, I have my first poem.  Also to thank is the mystery dove that’s been hanging out on one of the power lines in front of the house, both early in the morning and late, late at night in the thick blue fog.  I imagine her a mother dove.

And, in spite of the steady rain, she remained there, stoic.