The seasons slip gently
into years.
In the spring
of my life
she held my hand,
a strong defense
against anything
that might harm me.
She listened,
with patience,
to the repetition of words
and stories and questions.
With love and diligence,
she met each need.
In the summer
of my life,
she patiently dispensed
wisdom and grace.
She loved
my children well,
her home a place
of loving embraces
and freshly baked cookies.
She became my
dearest friend.
In the autumn of my life,
she walked with me
through pain and sorrow;
shared my joy
as great-grandchildren
stepped into her life.
She lived hospitality
and service,
her home, a place
of welcome to
family and strangers alike.
In the winter of her life
I take her hand
to keep her safe,
to keep her from falling.
I listen to words
and stories
she has begun
to repeat
and feel a frisson
of fear and sadness.
I try to meet needs
I cannot hope
to satisfy.
I count myself
blessed
and treasure the
moments.
Blessings,
Linda
