Of poetry and other things
Repositioning one's home office means going though a lot of papers. What to discard and what to keep? In the midst of the chaos, I came across a picture of my sister on a horse when she was a little girl (a keeper), re-read two volumes of poetry ("Thoughts" and "Second Thoughts") that she wrote when she was twenty and twenty-one respectively and the world seemed bright and new, and then tried unsuccessfully to reach her on her cell phone. We have lived in different cities -- most of that time in different countries -- seeing one another perhaps once or twice a year, for more than half a century. Yet the closeness of spirit remains. She will always be my little sister.
Currently, she is in a nursing home, recovering from a broken leg. Not that she needed another complication to add to the already severe complications of diabetes she suffers, again complicated by two kinds of cancer that fight for space in her body so that her lymphoma proceeds slowly. But she too fights on, as she has for many years.
I'm going to call again now, to remind her of the time when she sat atop Peter the horse, and I'm going to tell her that my granddaughter wants to learn how to ride. My sister will like that. Maybe she will write poetry again.
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