Flying Solo

 

One realizes the many things one had help with,

Like rubbing cream into the dry spot on one’s back, completely out of reach.

Now one takes a bamboo back scratcher and

Covers it with a sock and 

Slathers the sock with moisturizer and

Manages the job.

Now one realizes it will be fine if some jars can’t be opened and 

Talks to oneself and the cat about many matters and

Works at the skill of cooking for one and

Checks thrice that the doors are locked before retiring and

Stretches out in the bed that has long been a solo operation anyway and

Manages eventually to sleep.

One worries about falling and

Does slow, gentle yoga to get stronger and

Practices balancing on one foot and

Hires help for the snow shoveling and

Discovers the fellow who shovels at the door one cold morning

Hand over heart, asking how one is “holding up.”

Neighbors and friends, too, check in on the “holding up” question

And one realizes that after all it’s a comfort that people care.

One musters the courage to drive everywhere and

Discovers it’s doable after all and

Likes the convenience of driving across town to one’s appointments

Rather than always taking the bus.

One gets the smaller Christmas tree and fewer poinsettias and

Considers procuring smaller ornaments and

Tries not to cry in front of one’s children

Lest they think one is about to crash and burn on this solo flight.

One realizes there is a vast reservoir of strength,

Steely strength

The kind of strength that allows one to push out a baby or two and

Lose a third

And one draws on this strength and remembers to breath and eat and sleep and

Notice the winter sunsets, still glowing and glorious though

One is flying solo.