Just the other day,
I learned my father had left rehab
for his first visit home in some two months.
Mom had his favorite Barco-lounger recovered,
and he shuffled over to the chair
and flopped down
like he’d only been gone for a few moments.
We were hopeful.
***
Later that same day,
Dad was 9-1-1’ed to the emergency room.
Mom thought it was the end.
“I think your Dad thought it was the end, too,” she told me.
Today he’s listed in serious condition,
she’s on sedatives,
and I walk the dogs
through the woods, praying.
The man had immortality written all over him.
***
Feels like nobody’s father ever got sick before.
I hear scratching on the door.
Guess it’s time for another walk
through the woods.
(1994)