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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