Personal · Poetry

The end of the day

I am winding down from the day, enjoying a cup of tea, rather than coffee. Al is in the other room, listening to late-night television programming. Perry Mason, Night Gallery, &c.

The day didn’t go as expected. As we were getting ready to out for a quick supper (eggs and hash browns), I recalled that Al had talked, earlier in the week, about going to the visitation/prayer service for the wife of one of his former co-workers. That was about 5:10, just 10 minutes into the visitation, and so he left for the funeral home. The co-worker, Al said, was shocked to see him there, and they spent much time talking together. Later in the evening, we did go out to Denny’s and had a good time talking over events of the day.

I located and washed the last of the yogurt jars (the dog had picked up that last missing jar and carried it under the kitchen table, to lick it clean in privacy), which are now sitting on the sideboard air drying. And all of the lids. I also washed, dried and put away the pan in which I cooked rice, earlier. For lunch, I fixed white rice, sardines and steamed vegetables.

When my youngest sister died in September 2014, her son and his wife stopped by here with an old poetry book of mine that my sister had kept by her. The poems were written in the 1960s and 1970s. I’d moved back here during the winter of 1979/1980, I think; the address on the title page was the old one. The poetry book contains the only copy there is of some of these poems. An interesting time in my life. Major events, experiences and transitions.

Some tattered papers
drifting through deserted streets
on a hollow wind . . .

From the title page of my first poetry collection and written during the summer before my junior or senior year of college

One thought on “The end of the day

  1. Wonderful, wistful title to your poetry book. And I laughed when I read about the dog’s actions. I relate to dogs (well, to cats, too). The rest is homey in an appealing way (like Al, I watch Perry Mason at night) and also sad. I am sad to hear about your sister and about Al’s co-worker’s wife. Death is hard and always surprises, or so I’ve found. My mother died after two years of suffering, and still it was a shock even being there for it. You have comforting things to do, and I hope that’s how they feel. And what a treat to be given your earlier work. Thank you.


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