Green Lifesavers

Every night you gave me

A green lifesaver

After you and Mom

Went to bed.


Once Mom was situated

You’d come back,

Your stooped, slow gait

As sure as the clock on the wall

And the beat of Mom’s oxygen machine.


“Love you.”

“Love you, Dad.’

And off you’d go

To bed to keep an eye on Mom.


I’d stay up to

Have a glass of wine.

My heart would

Get in time

With Mom’s machine.

Time would tick on.


I saved the Lifesaver

For the ride home

A sacramental offering

To love and its history.


When Gram was dying

She had a roll of five-flavor

Lifesavers.

I watched her peel her way down

To the green one.


Not a frugal Yankee move--

Not one at a time and you’ll get 

To your favorite when it gets to you.

She wanted what she wanted

And, dying, would have it.


My favorite color.

My favorite flavor.


I told you.

You remembered--

With and for me.


We will have what we want.

“I love you.”

“Remember to turn the light out."

“Sure, Dad.”


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