Fall in the Nursing Home
The air blew in
stirred the leaves of memory
in early days fresh and clean
now faded, neglected.
I always felt sure
of the sooner or later
that what matters is
never too far from the kitchen table.
The drawing room has chairs still
try to freshen up, we have time
mustn’t be hurried
—©Julie N Deutscher, 2014 —
This poem reminds me of visits with my grandmothers in their last years. I had big dreams of getting to know them — really getting to know them — before it was too late. But of course, it already was. One of my grandmothers was suffering from multiple strokes and the other from the effects of advanced Parkinson’s disease. It takes a lifetime of visits to get what I wanted.
Growing up, I only got to see them once or twice a year. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized just how much I missed from not having them in my life more. My brother learned this lesson earlier than I did. He spent several summers living with one of our grandmothers on our family farm.
As this found poem emerged from the page, I found myself mourning them again. Mourning not only their deaths, but the loss of the stories they took with them.
Source: Dodie Smith’s 1948 novel, I Capture the Castle, page 35