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| Vinyards at Auvers, Van Gogh 1890 |
I'm standing outstretched to reach what's next.
Once this, then peace.
Once we turn the corner, bury the hatchet, forge a new path . . .
Once we arrive, we'll relax.
Once the baby is born or the kids leave home
Or the project ends or the transfer comes
Or we buy a house or sell or move or stay,
Once I get a diagnosis, or he does or you do, then we'll take a breath.
Once when I was waiting for my mother to die and then (O God) my son,
I thought things would never get better.
But they did.
We did find a path; so much lay ahead.
We did turn the corner and saw mirrors more.
No one ever arrives, they say.
They grow up and leave by train or car or casket.
Death is not proud.
Leaves fall and if we're alive
We hold each other tight.
Children are born, family comes home,
Marriages falter and marriages last.
God grips our hand.
It all gets better (waiting to die) my mother said.
And it did.
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