Remember Time Spent With Mom

I was the caregiver to my mother and her twin. They lived to ages 95 and 96. Now I find myself on the other end of the scenario, which is difficult in a different way.  I hope to be spirited and wear a smile for some time to come (I am 71) but intentionally prepare my children for times ahead by writing a poem. I gave each of my children (ages 45, 43, and 34) a copy and told them, “I mean it.”

To My Children

When I spill some food on my nice clean dress
Or maybe forget to tie my shoe,
Please be patient and perhaps reminisce
About the many hours I spent with you.

When I taught you how to eat with care,
Plus tying laces and your numbers, too,
Dressing yourself and combing your hair,
Those were precious hours spent with you.

So when I forget what I was about to say,
Just give me a minute — or maybe two.
It probably wasn’t important anyway,
And I would much rather listen just to you.

If I tell the story one more time,
And you know the ending through and through,
Please remember your first nursery rhyme
When I rehearsed it a hundred times with you.

When my legs are tired and it’s hard to stand
Or walk the steady pace that I would like to do,
Please take me carefully by my hand,
And guide me now as I so often did for you.