Becoming Elders
We sit together, three kids once again.
My fingers trace over the decades of table scratches and nicks.
Surrounded by tattered photos of a lifetime
we sit with the story they tell of this family,
yet each of us, alone with our own account.
Laughter and tears mixing together
oil and water that first blends then
separates, suspended.
Joy and sorrow, the bitter and the sweet,
always together.
Tomorrow we leave the family home
Release it and all it holds.
Each of us, smiles in place,
carry out with us the memories of family
Stepping into the new space of
Elder.
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