She is old
Ninety-three last Friday
Slow and not too steady on her feet
Moving quickly toward a finish line
In a race that’s sure to deplete
My soul.

She reaches for my hand
And I take it
Careful not to squeeze too tight
Wishing I was an expert
At hiding and taking flight
From what I know is soon to be.

She knows
I know
It won’t be long
This woman who always put me first
And stood so strong
No matter how dire the circumstance.

Sometimes when she doesn’t recognize me
My fragile feelings shatter
But knowing she always loves me
Makes nothing else important
Makes nothing else matter.

Until the end I’ll be by her side
Caring for her as best I can
After that, I don’t know where I’ll be
Without my mother to carry me
Through the darkness that’s sure to come.