Saturday, November 14, 2020
I walked up the hill of 165th street
To the hospital on Fort Washington Avenue
To visit my recovering mother in law
Laying in a bed, to her delight, with a view
The view satisfied her,
for it stretched across the Hudson
Her marital home of 40 years
Was between a mountain and the River, a satisfying juxtaposition
She was felled by the usual suspect
Cancer in one of its many shades
Her pancreas was engulfed by renegade cells
Doctors gutted her twice in 5 days
It had been cool for many years
Between this woman and me
I missed her dead husband
But she was not him, and I, not he
But obligations as they are
Are a mix of nostalgia and duty
And so I trudged down to Manhattan
To bring her the New Yorker and toiletries
We sat pleasant enough
Weather and view discussed
I held back the emotional strain
Of years and unresolved fuss
And I do love parts of her
Her ease and her cooking and independence
My daughters admire the same
Finding her the fun grandparent
So we chatted a bit more
What’s the plan, when will we know?
How to escape this horrible place
Despite the new, well-polished floors
But answers weren’t clear
And I got the emerging sense
That this was only the beginning
Of a long, stretched-out descent
Which, given my selfish nature
Made me turn inside
Will my mark not be made
And my chance deprived?
Whether by a failure to act
Or a failure to succeed
Or by circumstances “beyond my control”
As Malkovich repeatedly bleated
So I walked back down the hill
Toward the upper-est of Riverside Drive
That view of the Hudson and Jersey
Was certainly a pretty sight
And I thought of my mother in law
Laying up there with a similar sweep
And hoped she could gather some strength
From the old Hudson’s majesty
And fall into a needed, medicinal, deep sleep
Dick Manning is a New York, exurban dweller. He has the duality of living on a dirt road fifty miles north of the City and (before COVID) a daily commute into Manhattan. He loves words, truth, and finding truth through words. He believes in place and service. Between October 2020 and January 2021, Neal created a poetry series called, “100 Days, 100 Emotions, 100 Poems”, in order to capture the impact of the highly concentrated space and time that COVID created.