Bouncing from wall to wall
I do my early morning shuffle
along the hall to the bathroom.
Cold water on sleep-filled eyes
helps me make my way to the kitchen.
I think of T.S. Eliot as I measure out
the coffee. One more day.
My husband sleeps in a recliner nearby.
As I bend to check his breathing
he wakes and motions me to join him.
I lift a frayed, long-cherished quilt
and slip in beside him.
The gurgle of the coffee pot
is muffled by the sound of purring.
The cat has pounced on our aging bodies
and is circling his intended napping place.
We smell the coffee.
That special first cup will be delayed
for a time of loving reassurance.
Despite signs of diminishing functions
of mind and body, each day holds
moments of unmitigated joy.

— Elaine Parker Akin