An Ode to Moving When Older

Moving away from my sweet neighbors,

Blistered hands from all of the packing.

The expectancy is of visiting grandchildren,

Hoping those expectations will not go lacking.

Yet, I hear my husband sobbing in the kitchen.

He doesn’t want me to witness his many tears.

But, I think we both feel much sorrow,

As we give up friends from many years.

Our children say we need to be near them,

In case we experience sickness or death.

And we’ve decided to acquiesce to their wishes,

Even though we are both in good health.

So, we are moving one last time on earth,

Seeing children more will be kind of nice.

But, I hope we won’t find we’re more alone,

And that the move wasn’t worth the sacrifice.

Very personal poem written for Sunday Writing Prompt 5×5 from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: moving, blistered, expectancy, sobbing, the expression of a companion not meant to be witnessed.