My sons came home
to help my arthritic shoulders
raise high the roof
(read: install a new ceiling
in the upstairs bathroom).
The old ceiling has been flaky:
paint and plaster
falling like errant snow.
The word “help” is relative:
they let me re-plumb
the shower head
so I had something to do.
My job was mainly
basking in their joy
and letting them
“help” most of the work.
My joy was watching
these two men
who used to play
around my ankles
raise me high
over their hearts.
What a beautiful heart warming poem, both tangible and honest.
Thank you, Eluthria. There are so many interesting, thoughtful and enlightened people in my extended family; I have learned a much from their lives and passions.