CATHERINE

It was a pleasant enough place
as nursing homes go,
well-lighted, clean, almost cheerful.
They'd told me she was blind
and so I wondered
why she said on my first visit:
"Isn't this a pleasant room?"

Her husband lay in the other bed.
"Say hello to the new pastor, Doot,"
and then in a whisper
"He never talked much.
It's been hard on him
since they took his leg.
Diabetes, you know. Just like me.
People think it must
be hard for me, stuck in this bed,
but I have memories,
so many, such good ones.
I remember . . ."

And off we would go,
to people and places
I'd never seen or gone.
She was a cheerful guide,
taking my hand and leading me
back through the hallways of her life
where we paused
to peer in rooms
and smile or laugh
at ironies and pomposities.
There were, of course, sad tales too.
We honored them with silence.

I wish I had told her
how she blessed me.