Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Old Age

Next, updating the huge backlog of your comments.  But just to assure you that I’m back “for real,” here is a poem.  (PS This was updated thanks to my buddy Mike, who caught a typo in the second line.  Bravo for second pairs of eyes!)

I always told Riley, “Just because you’re my only child doesn’t mean you owe me grandchildren, like some sort of karmic payback.  And when it’s time to take away my car keys, you have my permission NOW, while I’m still together… same thing with putting me in assisted living or a nursing home.  Only one caveat on that…”

Retirement Plan
(For my daughter, with love and zero guilt!)

When I grow too slow for races
Should I live to be quite dull
And my conversation brings a yawn
And my wheelchair you must pull

Waste no time on guilt, my dear
You have complete permission
To send me to a nursing home
I’ve only one provision:

First send me on a cruise ship
To see Alaska’s shore
I’ll slip, unnoticed, overboard
And be a mermaid once more

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil