This poem came to me in the middle of the night while I was working at the hospital, shortly after I'd visited my grandmother with dementia. I had been contemplating her journey and how it was different from so many of my patients. I quickly wrote the poem down on a sticky note (I frequently "lose" poems if I don't put them to paper immediately, which has caused many puddles on my bathroom floor since most of my inspiration occurs in the shower!). I shoved the poem in my pocket and didn't think about it again until laundry day. When I found the sticky again, I typed it up and sent it off to a lit journal.
It's rare for a poem to come to me "whole" like that, and I have to say it's an amazing experience. Especially since this past year I'd taken a long break from writing poetry in order to concentrate on a novel; it feels incredibly rewarding returning to a form of art that I am so passionate about!
My grandparents. My amazing grandfather now single-handedly takes care of my grandmother, who relies on him for everything. But to be fair, she took care of him long before that :)