On March 21, 2020, at the start of the COVID times, the last thing and the thing not to be was one and the same. Such a mundane thing to now have so much meaning. I still have the list. The day Mom’s soul departed for heaven, March 22, will always be memorable, but the night before…that night…will be etched in my mind.
two nights before
you were worried about being
shut in. stuck. getting sick.
I blew it off with an eye roll
it will be okay soon
two nights before
I said I would hop-on-up
brave the store. mask up.
to get what you needed
to get by for a time
one night before
I called to get your list
to talk. to argue. to laugh.
you always answered
with your bright voice
but not that night
father answered the phone
quiet. confused. worried.
he wasn’t sure why
you could not talk
that night was a blur
of swirling snow and dark roads
blinding. racing. gripping.
I would be the first
have to keep my head
that night was an orchestration
wild baton directing notes
call. text. pray.
I am almost there
He is at the house
that night was a collision
of a child inside a man
remembering. wishing. knowing.
the beginning of an end
a list undone
a tilting of air 