Thursday, October 1, 2020

Today's Cup

Last Saturday my Aunt Diane stopped by to bring me something I had left at our family get-together on Labor Day. 

We sat on my back porch, a light cool breeze keeping us company. We talked about playing cards on our fall break, picking back up from our weekly summer card nights. 

That night I sent a group text with a countdown of the days - 25 to be exact.

That was the last time I talked to her. She had a heart attack the next afternoon and passed away Wednesday morning, the same day I found this poem. It speaks to my heart and is a gentle reminder of how easy it is to lose those we love. I don't write this post for sympathy. I write this to remind you how each day is a gift.


Each one is a gift, no doubt, 
mysteriously placed in your waking hand 
or set upon your forehead 
moments before you open your eyes. 

Today begins cold and bright, 
the ground heavy with snow 
and the thick masonry of ice, 
the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds. 

Through the calm eye of the window 
everything is in its place 
but so precariously 
this day might be resting somehow 

on the one before it, 
all the days of the past stacked high 
like the impossible tower of dishes 
entertainers used to build on stage. 

No wonder you find yourself 
perched on the top of a tall ladder 
hoping to add one more. 
Just another Wednesday 

you whisper, 
then holding your breath, 
place this cup on yesterday’s saucer 
without the slightest clink.

May you take a moment 
to whisper,
to hold your breath,
and place today's cup 
on yesterday's saucer.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic