Valentine's Week

A WEEK IN RETIREMENT

Monday

You wake up in the morning, and there it is -- 

Another morning. If you live through it               

(And probably you will) the afternoon          

Will be there waiting for you. What to do?         

It gets discouraging.  Day after day                     

The same old thing. Almost. Maybe the pain 

In your right ankle moves to afflict your wrist. 

Maybe not. Maybe they both will hurt, or

Maybe neither; it matters very little.

You won't recall the day from any other.

 

Tuesday

And here's another morning falling through

A crack in time. What did I do yesterday?

Went to the Wiscasset gym, worked out

On a machine or two, came home with Jean

And stole a nap. Woke up and worked on this.

Spent time, or wasted it, I ought to say,

Watching Antiques Roadshow, Pawn Stars, Pickers,

Played with Claudette, our cat -- ah! Golden Years!

And went to bed. Claudette came, too, of course,

To keep me company in my recliner --

I can't lie on my back or it will break.

 

Wednesday

I drove to Hallowell to see my barber 

Julie yesterday and saw instead

Roland, her father-in-law, the Yankee clipper

Who used to cut my hair before he moved

Out to Arizona -- now he's back

Again to my great delight! I asked him why.

He said, "Out there they asked me if I missed

The State of Maine, and I'd reply, 'Only

My customers,' but my wife most surely did.

So here we are again. We never sold

Our house. We've fixed it up, and now she's set

If I should take a dive." "You're looking great!"

"And how's yourself?" He asked. We're of an age.

We spent a while complaining. I went home

Looking great and feeling much the same.

Then, in the evening, Jean and I went back

Up to Augusta to collect our daughter's girls,

Phoebe and Jessie, while Melora taught

Her evening class. We took them out to dinner

At the Olive Garden -- a lovely time

Was had by all. I guess once in a while

The "Golden Years" are okay after all.

 

Thursday

I was treated yesterday with great

Abandon: Jean went out to shop and lunch

With two of her henchwomen. Afterward 

They did some other things, I guess. I went

And exercised alone. When I got home

I ate a plate of orts and read a bit,

Got bored, of course, jumped in my car

And went to have it serviced. On my way

Jean phoned to say that she was home, and where

Was I? I told her. Afterward I went

And bought a bunch of Valentines for all 

The family and then went back to have

A third meal from our Sunday chicken. Yum.

Today I'll make a pot of sauce. I made

An omelet for us this morning, and

We'll have to shop before tomorrow's storm,

Supposed to be the biggest of the season.

Yawn. I guess I'll have to check to see

Whether I can start the generator.

I'm tempted to end this line with, "See you later,"

But of course I won't.

 

Friday

The generator wouldn't start. I pulled

The cord so hard I lifted the engine off

The ground partway. We called our handyman

Who came, but he and his helper had no luck

Either, even after they bought a plug.

None of us could raise a spark or cough.

The day was halfway done before I phoned

Around to see if I could find a new

Machine with battery ignition. None

Anywhere, and there was only one

Of the ordinary type -- that one I bought.

Bob Collins got it running by suppertime.

This morning our huge nor'easter is upon us.

At least the day was anything but boring

And now we're hunkered down, the three of us --

Claudette McFang the cat in hibernation,

Jean and me, so let the damned snow fall,

Set the wind to whining in the pines

Down by the Bog Brook winding through the yard.

 

Saturday

Claudette and I awoke to look outdoors

And see the wind whipping past the window,

Snow coming down in curtains, piling up

In drifts that block the doors -- but that's okay;

Who wants to go outdoors in any case?

Of course, we still have power, since we bought

A generator we won't likely need

Now the blizzard's winding down a bit.

We won't be going anywhere today

At any rate or how or anyway.

 

Sunday

The storm has blown itself clear out to sea, 

And here's the morning sun come out to see

Our road's been plowed, our driveway has been, too,

Beneath a sky-dome colored summer blue.

This sun day is most certainly a winner

By any standard for a day of winter.

Melora and her gang will come for dinner

As usual before tomorrow comes

With weather once again: some sleet, some snow,

And boredom clutched in both its frigid fists.

 

-- Lewis Turco

Originally published in Per Contra.

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