I see them
most every week
when I’m driving.
The little man
with his little wife
going for their afternoon stroll
on the sidewalk
in our neighborhood,
holding hands.
They must be 75
years old, at least, and
his leg is bad—
the knee, I think.
His other hand
holds a cane,
but he doesn’t use it—holds it
parallel to the ground.
Just in case.
And she,
with her opposing hand,
carries an umbrella,
unopened.
It is Seattle,
you know,
better to be prepared.
Just in case.
I love this scene,
supporting each other,
ready in case of stumbling,
ready in case the rain comes.
They’ve been blessed
to have weathered
life together—so long.
I imagine that will be us.
I know one day
I will see only one of them
going on that walk…
Then I picture you,
tomorrow, in your bunker gear,
and rush home
to kiss you
until we’re 75,
at least.
Just in case.
Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner