Still Ringing

Still Ringing


I met a Lady yesterday
at an event to raise money
to fight cancer: beyond thin,
eyes sparkling, immense smile.
More. She's a survivor.
We talked. She waxed poetic
of her husband for forty years,
children, her grands, and three greats.

She outwalked me and my bum knee,
the twenty-somethings who had no clue
why they walked, but "Mom said we had to,"
and corporate executives with golf-sock tans.
Energy to spare, she table-hopped,
laughed, and spread the joy of her being
like there was no tomorrow.

I mentioned that to her
and she said, with her infectious smile,
"I never know
how many tomorrows I will have,
so I make the best of every single day."
She rang her bell twenty-three years,
five months and seventeen days ago.
Says she rings a bell at home every morning.



Yesterday, I met one very grand Lady.