The Art of Aging

In a community chorus, I add to the group an unremarkable voice which over time has faded with the color of my hair.   Alto for years, I once knew my place, or could easily find it, or even just wing it without hurting the overall harmony.   But the slip of...

Body, for all the gripes I have about stiffness and pain, I should be grateful for all you have given me.   We've had a pretty good run, you and I, and although I might wish for flexibility,   and the eye-hand coordination that might have turned playground...

Oh sigh Am I Not done yet? It's been twenty-six Thousand Nights and days. More. Like Whitney snowy am I Now up top. But woman still below Am I. No hag yet. Breathing yet. Not dead yet. Yet upright. Traveling still on. Looking out Behind and Beyond for bears. So far,...

Don't expect quiet elegance in my riper years, no St. John knits in subtle hues, blue hair tamed and coiffed into a docile bun at the base of a creased neck, no skeins of yarn to convert into afghans nor loyal cats to share my bed.   Don't look for me at AARP...

Senior Life   There are no excuses. The reality is I'm shorter by another inch, age spots now sprinkled over my arms and legs like chocolate chips, gait slowed so people pass me on my walks in the neighborhood and glasses are no longer a fashion statement. Memory...

Escape   I walk into your hospital room and all is somber But your aide with the quick smile and hearty laugh is there And I can't stop myself from noticing a rope hanging outside your window.   You and the aide had not noticed it before. The elf in me...

According to the calendar, two years have passed since angels came to collect my mother. In my mind and heart it feels as if only a few days have gone by since I said goodbye to Nellie Pearl Yarbough (July 2, 1930-Sept. 1, 2020). Despite facing a long list of health...

In the summer of 2006, I went to live with my grandmother, Esther, in the Bronx while I had an internship in nearby Manhattan. She and I had always been close, but these three months solidified our connection. She taught me how to navigate New York public transit and...

I slide into the driver's seat of my reliable Mini Cooper, a car that has never given me a bit of trouble, a moment of hesitation, always starting up as the day starts up—bright, hopeful. Until today. For a second the engine catches then dies, sputters like a person...

I first met Margaret (not her real name) during the early years of my practice when I, a social worker by profession, was just beginning a new business as a professional geriatric care manager. I was out of the office when she called the first time. “You have a...

The banker sat behind a plexiglass shield, shouldering a phone against his ear while he typed. “Delete relationship,” he said to another banker he'd called for help. “Correct?” That's when it hit me. The relationship he was referring to, between my mother and myself,...

Mama Mia (2018) As I have aged, I remember my mother as she got older. The yellow color is part of how I remember her, yellow roses, yellow birds. Keys (2013) My father-in-law was 80 when his doctor told him he could no longer drive. He had gone for a routine checkup....