[Header Photo by Daniel Lerman on Unsplash]

Margot was

Margot was always

Margot was always looking

Margot was always looking over

Margot was always looking over the shoulder

Margot was always looking over the shoulder of what

Margot was always looking over the shoulder of what she had

Margot was always looking over the shoulder of what she had in front

Margot was always looking over the shoulder of what she had in front of her

—P.L. Thomas

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when my grandson was a toddler
i was his daycare on tuesdays

the way i had helped with care
for his older sister then in school

we were playing on the floor
when he jumped up to go downstairs

i struggled to get to my feet
as he turned back to me exasperated

i am getting too old for this
i told him still on one knee

i don’t like you being old he said
i don’t either, i don’t either i replied

this is the only real option humans have
getting too old for this our inevitable

there is joy and suffering in too old for this
the existential reality of our rock and hill

too old for the nonsense is a freedom
too old to endure the weight is a losing

my knuckles and hands are stiff and slow
as i rub my grandson’s head and smile

at eight now he is a quick laugh and full of life
i will never grow too old for this

—P.L. Thomas