Saturday, November 8, 2014

What separated us

Twenty-eight years separated us,
not even a comma in the span
of time, those years of Roaring 20s,
Great Depression, Gone with the Wind
and the Wizard of Oz, Pearl Harbor
and the bomb bookending the war,
divorce and remarriage, whole novels
of experience and living, generations
fusing and passing, and she sat
in a hospital bed, eyes tired, smiling
at the thought of what she had had
for dessert for lunch. The sherbet,
she said, was delicious.

Photograph by Larisa Okhtienko via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.


Martha Jane Orlando said...

Simple and simply beautiful, Glynn . . .

Sandra Heska King said...

This touched me deep, Glynn.

Gwen Jorgensen said...

Ah. I think gut wrenching sobs mean it touched me. Two parents with dementia.

Maureen said...


diana said...

Ah, me, too, Glynn. Me, too. 23 years for me and my mama. And I have to tell her every day that I am her daughter. Every.Day.