I Counted by Brian Arner

I Counted

by Brian Arner

She had lived a full life,

so they said.

She had raised three children,

had seven grandchildren,

and twelve great-grandchildren.

Her bent frame had withstood the

blister of nearly ninety winters.

Yet her once confident stride had been

reduced to an often disoriented, dependent shuffle.

The constant grind of life had slowly but surely dulled

her faculties.

Her husband had died long ago, and most of her other

trophies,

including her memory, had vanished as well.

Her descendants, who dutifully housed, fed and cared for

her.

keeping her from the gates of a nursing home,

cooly justified her irrational behavior

by proclaiming "her mind is gone."

the slow passage of her time seemed to be marked only

by meals,

and her daily riding up and lying down.

Her glazed stare was endlessly directed at the opposing

wall as though watching some unseen television.

I sat and watched her,

and counted the days until my next birthday.