She shuffled along
barely picking up her feet
cane supported her right hand.
daughter on her left
guided the way.
Wrapped in a coat
warm woolen red.
a lavender hat
tiny grey pompom on top
pulled down tightly over her ears
eyes barely visible.
Daughter steadied her
readied her
as she sat down.
at the table
coat and hat remain in place.
Daughter quietly
almost inaudibly asked
two eggs, home fries and toast?
her head nodded.
coffee?
another nod.
water, no ice?
nod.
She would have wanted scrapple
eggs over easy
rye toast, dry
coffee, black
and water, iced. Loaded with ice.
no coat,
definitely no hat.
Coffee poured.
raised the mug to her own lips
and sipped.
daughter whispered
head nodded.
she readied her for the meal
sleeves of warm red coat pushed up
shamrock bib tied around her neck.
She would have balked at the bib.
a firm reminder she was the mother,
not the baby.
Quiet conversation.
loving regards.
peaceful, appreciative moments
passed between.
Overwhelmed by the scene
at the next table.
by the rush of memories.
the two of them.
same movie, different set.
Grateful.
for taking me
to another place and time.
for the flashback.
Their breakfast paid.
by the witnesses.
appreciative
anonymous.
©Maribeth Batcho
All Rights Reserved.
Unleashed 
Your poem is beautifully arranged…tears welled in my eyes as I read it thinking of my own mom and the struggles with role reversal (me now the parent) making choices, steadying, meeting needs and requests-the care giver’s struggle…still allowing autonomy but with a guiding hand…so hard. So hard!
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Kind words. Appreciated, Amy. I was hoping that gratitude, paying it forward came through, as was as a sen se of sharpened observation. Did that work? This event happened Saturday, and was one of the first times I was able to observe from the outside looking in. Caregiving walks a very fine line. Rewarding. Exhausting. Lonely at times. I understand your challenge and respect you for what you are doing for your mom. Best wishes.
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I got this in email a couple of days ago, but could not find it on your blog, figured you removed it after the email went out. I was totally drawn by the format and the specific details you included. It made me think of taking my mom out. We are not at that care giver stage yet. She still lives independently. Love the new ending. You convey so much heart with so few words.
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I hit the wrong button and pulled it back. Same thing this morning when I accidentally hit spam and now can’t retrieve the message…did you do the same with a piece about taxes?
Thanks for reading twice. It was interesting to be an outsider looking in, comparing the scene to my own experiences.
Thanks again, Elsie!
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This is beautiful and touching. I love the offset thoughts. You were so observant and I’ve been sitting here thinking about how this could be happening anywhere in the world every second of the day. That makes is powerful.
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Thank you! I needed that! 🙂
March has made me keenly aware…
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Wow, this is so powerful and poignant, Maribeth. You are masterful with words. I love the alternating left right sides of this poem, and of the moment witnessed as a trigger for a jaunt down your own memories.
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Thank you, Michelle. Your words are kind for a novice. The real show stopper was the mother-daughter team, so tender and loving they brought tears to my eyes. I knew we had to offer them something, so we bought their breakfasts…
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I could feel your creation and the universal experience… I had with my mom… I missed with my husband. He left just in time to preserve his dignity. Aging is rough…
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It can be indeed. Nothing golden about those years for most people. The experience of care giving can be challenging at best, especially if you have no one to help. Watching my mother suffer was the worst. In retrospect, it would have been better for her, for all of us, had she left earlier. But the day I observed this unfold before me, I wanted to bring joy and surprise to this mother-daughter team, so we bought them breakfast, and maybe, just maybe, some life to both of them, even if just for a day or two. Thank you for reading and especially for responding to the writing.
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Very touching poem. You really capture the essence of love. Although your gesture of buying them breakfast may seem small, it is the little things that matter. I will take your message in my heart today and find a way to pay it forward.
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So sweet. Thank you for your kind words, and for paying it forward. We all need a little pick me up from time to time…
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Your writing conveys so much feeling. The arrangement of the words on the page, the use of italics – great techniques for this touching poem – poignant, painting vivid scenes from both tables. I am amazed how you can do this with such few words! But you do it beautifully! Writing from the heart is always the best kind.
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As they say, less is more. Edit, edit, edit. Even if you are on Project Runway.
Thanks for the positive feedback to this piece (and for not overusing exclamation points!) 🙂
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