I wish you knew her when, Tim.
 
I wish you knew her
when she settled neighborhood battles 
with a shout: 
“If you can’t be nice, GO HOME!”
And yet it was at her house
where all the kids gathered.

I wish you knew her
when she canned green beans
and made currant jelly, 
answered the phone a hundred times, 
sent her husband on another call, 
did laundry,
made lunch, 
then piled five kids,
or more likely six or seven,
into the Suburban 
for an afternoon at the crick—
and never looked away 
as they jumped off the bridge 
into the shimmering water
fifteen feet below;
never seemed to bat an eyelash
as water snakes drifted by, 
this city girl from Pittsburgh
transplanted. 

Seizures, a stroke, and years
took that polished girl away, 
and left this still-sparkly lady, 
who has let her hair go
Snow-white
during this Covid-crisis, 
who has backslid some, 
but who is
 keeping on
a-keepin-on, 

whom you are helping
to walk strong again, Tim. 

and I just wanted you to know this, 
and to thank you
for doing your part
so gallantly.

 I’m always grateful for everyone who takes the time to read my posts. Thank you!