Sunday, March 22, 2020

Our New Routine: A Poem for my Father

Each day I knock on your
imaginary office door.

My knock is a pause
at the entrance to the sunroom
where I rap my knuckles on
the wooden pillar which
divides the spaces.

"Yes?" you ask from
your caramel recliner. 
You lookup from the
biography you're reading.

"What time do you wanna walk today?"

You repeat my question back to me.

"What time do you wanna go?"

Each morning I share
one or two of the
to-dos from my list
that I'd like to finish
before we depart.
Based on those,
I make my proposal.

"How about 10:30?"

"Yeah, sounds good," you agree.

For the next hour
I bake, read and write
snail mail notes to
faraway friends.

For the next hour
you read, and
solve your crossword puzzle.

At 10:25, we meet.
Each of us bundled.
Ready to brave the
temperatures and wind
knowing these walks
warm our hearts.


  1. Oh my, I have a few tears in my eyes reading this. How special and heartwarming. I love that you wrote this slice as a poem, too. Truly touching reminder that the simplest things with those we love are some of the most important.

    1. Thanks Paula. It's become a new routine for the two of us and something I look forward to each day. I know I'll work again. I know I won't be living with them and I want to soak in time with each of my parents while I have the luxury.

  2. This poem, so lovely, makes me pause and think about the little things in life, like a simple, routine exchange between a parent and child. These are so important now, and if this moment in time does nothing more, maybe it will make many of us more aware of and present in our own spaces. That last stanza's subtext reminds me that together we're braving much more than the weather.

    1. Thanks Glenda. The small moments, where we pause and stop to enjoy and observe I think help keep us grounded. I hope, as you said, they make us more aware of our spaces and interactions with others.