by JK Archer

Yesterday, I spent some time with Papa,

Taking in needed supplies: fixodent, shavers, rubber bands, paper clips,

He was sleeping in his chair mid afternoon,

Deck door open, warm 80 degree breezes,

In this unusually warm Fall.

Here is my old man in his winter years

Peaceful, arched over a bit in his humped back chair.

A smile crosses his face as he greets me,

A broken blood vessel on his hand-purplish,

His speech muffled with just having woken up.

Is this what it is to be in the winter of one’s life?

Winding down, getting joy out of a morning cross word puzzle,

Watching the World Series and falling asleep before realizing the winner?

Observing my papa aging gives me clues to my aging,

Will I have the patience to deal with my slowing body?

Will I accept help thankfully and with grace?

Aging, heading toward twilight,

It takes faith to wake up each morning,

Faith to keep on keeping on,

Patience with a body that is slowing,

Eyes that are weakening,

A back that is curved over.

Will I be so gracious toward my body?

So accepting of the inevitable?

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