I’ve been going through some of my old writing. Most of the pieces are personal narratives, but then I came across a folder filled with poetry I had written for a poem-a-day challenge in July 2014.
July 2014 was probably the first time I realized consciously that Mom wouldn’t always be here. She collapsed at work and was taken to the hospital, where they determined that she needed a pacemaker. Getting that call was scary and I rushed over as soon as I could. The doctors explained everything to me and Mom and surgery was scheduled for after Independence Day.
Everything went well, but the anesthesia had a bad effect on my mom. As it wore off, my mom was in some sort of in-between place, not asleep, but not fully awake. She kept mumbling and what we could understand scared me as she kept saying she wanted to go home with “Father and Mother,” my grandparents who had died several years earlier. I remember freaking out on the doctor, but they assured me everything would be fine and it was.
I found the following poem in that folder:
On A Whim
I’ve lived with you for almost ten years
You adopted me in a mall
No one was looking at me and somehow I caught your eye
You called your daughter, described me
She laughed and told you to take a chance on me
So you did
You named me Bowser and took me home
I’ve watched you and your daughter grow older
I jumped with joy when Roxy joined us,
warily welcomed Maxine,
growled when you brought Jack home that Thanksgiving
We’re both growing older,
have a little more gray hair
Your daughter watches us a little more closely
But we’re still spitfires when we want to be
We can still keep everyone on their toes
It’s written from Bowser’s perspective. He would go on to live another six years after I wrote this.
There are other poems I found that seemed to be a premonition of sorts and while I think it would be good for me to share them, I’m not quite ready to do that now. I’m sharing this one because it made me smile, which God knows has been in short supply lately.