I breathe in and out, and watch as you struggle to do the same.
I look deeply into eyes that have seen and experienced too much. I see the creases and furrows that weave across your brow like a poorly tended bramble. You have too many scars for someone so young.
I know I am going home to Turkey and Pumpkin pie…you know it too. The awkwardness sits heavy between us and you cut through it with a gentle smile…it’s ok. I’ve accepted it.
Even though you’ve accepted your fate, it doesn’t make it fair or less perverse.
You know I’ll stuff myself beyond reason and will have to unbutton my pants as I adjourn to the couch.
You know the banter amongst your caregivers is beyond you. You know your journey is taking you somewhere where none of the day to day minutia that consumes most of our days matters.
You are proud and until recently you were independent and fierce. This new role does not suit you. You were a giver not a taker. Generous and kind.
With unfathomable grace and poise you say goodbye, and flash a smile for the ages.
I say a silent prayer for you and thank you for reminding me to count my blessings, cherish every moment, and never take any of it for granted.