by Cheryl Merrick
*I wish she knew the woman
who danced in the living room
with the neighborhood children;
who sailed across lakes and climbed mountains;
who jogged in the mornings
and daily ran up several flights of stairs;
who took two babies to the zoo
on a snowy New Year's Day
and for a winter hot dog picnic at the lake;
who baked cookies on rainy afternoons,
and sang, explored, and rode a bike around town.
She does not know the woman
I am now;
who walks a mile each morning before breakfast,
then works in the yard;
who goes into stores, to church,
and manages her home;
a person who enthusiastically approaches projects,
and laughs.
*written August 2016 after moving to the desert; thinking of my youngest daughter who never saw me when I was younger and had better health
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