Words from Inside My Head

If we’re competent and able to live on our own, we shouldn’t worry if we’re
still significant but many of us do, especially upon hearing

the sound of an ambulance as it approaches; our reactions are no longer
to hustle and take a sneak peek from behind closed curtains to see

which of the neighbors is being carried out feet first, but to make certain
it’s not for us for whom this particular ambulance rolls.

The heads of neighbors, younger than our own offspring, can be seen
doing just that by those of us whose children are long ago grown

and moved away. Out of neighborly concern, of course, they only want to
see who it is that’s being carted out of the exit

door of which home, homes now owned by someone who’s been here for
a very long time. So many of us elders live in

what seem to be weary houses, with barren rooms fertile young couples are
eager to move into to raise batches of younglings

in what could be resurrected neighborhoods. Younger folks can’t help but
wonder, as my friends and I do, “For whom are they coming?” while

we older folks ponder, “When will it come for me?” as we answer our doctor’s query, “Have you fallen since your last visit?”

So far I don’t read obituaries to see if my name’s listed there, but whenever
I hear it said – what seems a bit prematurely –

that someone much younger than me lived a long and full life, I wonder if they agreed. I’m not ready, so don’t call that ambulance for me.