This Is What I Fear
1.
I watch my dad play the role of mixologist at the kitchen counter
Measuring out grey goose, pomegranate juice, and tonic water
Like a young bachelor, only 60 years old.
This role carries into his notebook.
In them he mixes words: stirs in metaphor and consonance, adding rhyme scheme to taste.
He loves to share his work,
whether he is passing out drinks to my mom and me,
or reading his most recent work to a crowd
My dad will not be silenced.
2.
I watch my mom dress herself in trendy purples
Wearing earrings in her second set of pierced holes,
Like a young trendsetter, now 57.
Her evolving and stylish ways extend into her piano studio at home.
She moved her Baby Grand from one room to another,
reordering the furniture and
updating the space just as she updates her life,
smiling in the face of each new day with ideas to spare.
There is no box that could hold my mom.
3.
I think my parents designed our house to be open
And organized our lives so we could feel alive
I might be wrong.
All I know is that light seems to flow in the windows 24 hours a day
And only when I am sitting between them at the kitchen table,
Or laying between them in their bed
Do I not fear aging.
4.
My grandpa is dying.
He had a stroke.
His authoritative presence in the house kept my grandma,
his sole companion, from calling an ambulance for 12 hours.
For 12 hours, she sat by his side, worried but still.
Even with his left side numb,
Confined to a reclining position in their bed,
My grandpa’s voice alone overpowered my grandma’s will to get help.
5.
I am aware of my voice.
I listen to the way it rises when I am excited, and falls when I am unsure
Track the correlation between how my words are received
and how the next batch is delivered.
I monitor my content.
I wish I could say that I will always be fluid.
That I will design my home to be open
Fill my failed attempts and cracked plans with air and light
Dress in my favorite colors well into my 50s
pick up hobbies like I pick up the words to my favorite rap songs
But I don’t know.
When I am alone, I fear aging.
I worry that one day
My voice will not be loud enough
Or soft enough to save my life.
